.f  : 


\ '  JH^^  • 


.s^ 


*    3CR!B,\^ 


THE 


SACRED  MOUNTAINS. 


BV 

J.    T.    HEADLL3  y, 

AUTHOR    OF    NAPOLEON    AND    HIS    MARSHALL,    tTO. 


ILLUSTRATED. 


NEW   YORK: 
CHARLES    SCRIBNER 

377  &  379  BROADWAY. 

1856. 


WAN  STACIC 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Confess,   a  the  year  1846, 

eV  BAKER  &  SCRIBNER, 

In  the  Clerk's  Vtice   if  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States 

for  the  Vrthern  District  of  New  \3tk. 


BSiso 


MY  AGED  BELOVED  FATHER, 

WHO    HAS    LONG    STOOD    ON    THE    HEIGHTS    OF    ZION 

A   MESSENGER    OF    PEACE 

AND    HERALD    OF    GOOD    TIDINGS    TO    MEN, 

AND    WHOSE    FEET    I    KNOW 


WILL   SOON    STAND    ON    THE    "MOUNT    OF    GOD," 


THESE  SKETCHES 
ARE  AFFECTIONATELY  INSCRIBFJ). 


691 


PREFACE 


/The  design  of  the  following  sketches  is  to  ren- 
der more  familial  and  life-like  some  of  the  scenes 
of  the  Bible.  This,  I  know,  is  a  difficult  task,  not 
only  from  the  disposition  of  men  to  look  at  things 
sacred  less  naturally  than  on  the  common  events 
of  life,  but  from  the  inability  of  the  writer  to  find 
words  that  shall  bring  the  scenes  he  would  de- 
scribe, home  to  the  feehngs,  without  shocking  his 
own  and  the  reader's  sensibilities  by  |oo  familiar 
phrases.  Yet,  unless  they  cease  to  become  distant 
visions  to  us,  we  shall  never  appreciate  the  displays 
which  God  has  made  of  himself  to  man.  The 
Bible  is  a  book  of  general  principles  and  outline 
sketches.  To  elevate  and  extend  to  their  full  ap- 
plication the  former,  has  been  the  work  of  the  reli- 
gious teacher  from  the  time  of  Christ  till  now — 
while  the  filling  up  of  the  latter,  has  been  neglected 
as  impossible  or  useless.  But  God  has  not  given 
us  those   few  bold   outlines  of  the  most  thrilling 


VI  PREFACE. 

scenes  in  human  history,  to  have  them  never  com- 
pleted. Ill  my  descriptions,  I  have  endeavored  to 
shun  all  those  things  which  might  be  termed  mere 
creations  of  the  fancy,  and  have  confined  myself, 
either  to  the  Bible  itself,  or  to  those  incidents,  which 
must  have  occurred,  taking  human  nature  to  be  the 
same  in  all  ages  of  the  world./ 

There  is  oQe  mountain  in  the  list,  about  which 
there  has  been  much  dispute  among  WTiters — 1 
mean  Mount  Tabor.  Every  mountain  has  been 
more  or  less  the  subject  of  discussion,  because  its 
precise  locality  depends  entirely  upon  tradition. 
The  present  Ararat  may,  or  may  not,  be  the  Ararat 
on  which  the  ark  rested ;  yet,  tradition  says  it  is 
and  we  beheve  tradition.  Neither  Sinai  or  Horeb 
is  so  precisely  located  by  the  Bible  as  to  furnish  no 
grounds  for  dispute  ;  and  Moriah  and  Zion  have 
been  shifted  from  spot  to  spot,  to  xneet  the  views  of 
travellers.  Mount  Tabor  especially  has  excited 
their  incredulity,  and  it  is  declared  impossible  that 
it  should  be  the  mount  of  transfiguration.  And 
yet,  at  the  bottom  of  all  the  learning  and  research 
expended  on  this  subject,  I  can  find  but  two  reasons 
against  the  common  belief.  One  is,  that  tradition 
alone  declares  it  to  be  the  mount  of  transfigura- 
tion.    But  this  objection  is  groundless,  or  we  must 


PREFACE.  Vll 

give  up  also  the  localities  of  the  other  mountains, 
mentioned  in  th.e  Bible.  Ararat  itself  must  cease 
to  be  a  witness  for  the  deluge.  The  other  reason 
is,  that  Mount  Tabor  was  a  fortress,  and  hence 
could  not  be  chosen  by  Christ  for  such  an  exhibition 
of  himself  to  the  disciples.  In  the  fitst  place, 
granting  the  fact,  I  do  not  see  the  force  of  the 
argument.  Why  a  mountain,  several  miles  in 
circumference  at  the  top,  could  not  furnish  a  re- 
moved situation  for  such  a  scene,  it  is  difficult 
to  say.  If  the  proximity  of  n.en  were  an  objection, 
one  would  think  that  Christ  would  not  have  chosen 
Gethsemane  as  the  place  of  his  agony.  But  there 
is  no  evidence  that  Tabor,  at  that  time,  was  occu- 
pied as  a  fortress.  Almost  from  time  immemorial, 
the  great  plain  of  Esdraelon  had  been  the  meeting- 
spot  of  armies,  and  Tabor  furnished  a  stronghold 
for  whichever  party  could  occupy  it.  But  in  times 
of  peace  it  was  often  neglected  ;  and  that  it  was  in 
this  ruinous  state  at  the  period  of  Christ's  transfig- 
uration, is  evident  from  the  repairs  that  were  made, 
and  the  walls  that  were  built  at  the  commencement 
of  the  after-wars  between  Rome  and  Jerusalem. 
At  least,  there  is  no  other  mountain  in  all  this  re- 
gion answering  so  perfectly  to  the  description — "  an 

exceeding  high  mountain  apart.^^ / 
I* 


Vlll  PREFACE 


The  plates  are  accurate  drawings  of  these  moun- 
tains, as  they  now  appear,  with  the  exception,  that 
from  some  of  them,  mosques  have  been  removed, 
so  as  to  give  them  their,  original  form. 

As  Christ  is  the  beginning  and  end  of  all  these 
wonderful  displays  of  divine  power,  the  Star  of 
Bethlehem  has  been  chosen  as  first  in  the  list  of 
engravings.  / 


CONTENIS. 


MOUNT  ARARAT. 

Tho  Mountains  of  the  Bible. — Description  of  the  Flood. — After 
the  Deluge 13 


MOUNT  MORIAH. 

Journey  of  Abraham. — The  Scene  on  the  Mountain 29 

MOUNT  SINAI. 

Terrific  Scenery  amid  which  the  Law  was  given. — Slaughter  of 
Three  Thousand  of  the  Children  of  Israel 41 

MOUNT  HOR. 

Character  of  Aaron. — Mournful  scene  on  its  top  at  the  Death  of 
Aaron  in  the  presence  of  his  Son  and  Moses 55 

MOUNT  PISGAH. 

Character  of  Moses. — His  touching  Farewell  to  the  People. — His 
lonely  ascent  to  the  Mountain. — The  Prospect  spread  out  hUf 
fore  him.— His  Death 67 

MOUNT  HOREB. 

Elijah's  Flight  and  Despondency. —  God's  fearful  exhibition  of 
himself  in  the  Whirlwind,  Earthquake,  and  Storm  of  Fire. — 
The  still  small  Voice ^ 79 


X  CO  :>»- TENTS. 

MOUNT  CARMEL. 

Page 
Elijah's  boldness. — Gathering  of  the  People  to  Mount  Carmel. 

Trial  between  Elijah  and  the  Prophets  of  Baal. — Elijah's 

Prayer  and  the  answer  by  Fire. — His  Prayer  for  Rain  and  the 

sudden  Storm 11 

MOUNT  LEBANON. 

Its  Appearance  and  Beauty. — Its  Cedars. — Its  use  by  the  Pro- 
phets and  Poets  of  Israel  to  illustrate  the  Beauty  and  Glory 
of  the  Church 1U9 

MOUNT  ZION. 

The  touching  Associations  connected  with  the  Name. — It  stands 
for  Jerusalem — for  the  Church. — The  Love  of  the  Israelites 
for  Mount  Zion.— The  Captives  in  Babylon. — Last  Sacking 
and  Overthrow  of  the  City 118 

MOUNT  TABOR. 

The  strange  Contrasts  this  Earth  presents. — Battle  of  Mount 
Tabor  fought  by  Kleber. — View  from  the  Top. — Transfigura 
tion  of  Christ 132 

MOUNT  OF  OLIVES. 

Agony  of  Christ. — His  Seizure  and  the  rough  treatment  of  Him 

by  the  Soldiers 145 

« 

MOUNT  CALVARY. 
The  Crucifixion  Scene. — Moral  Grandeur  of  the  Atonement        156 

THE  MOUNT  OF  GOD. 
Glorious  Vision  of  John  in  the  Isle  of  Patmos.— The  one  hun- 
died  and  forty-foui  thousand  Harpers 168  / 


ILLUSTRATIONS, 


ENGRAVED   BY    BURT. 


{subjects. 

Painters. 

Mount  Ararat, 

Calcot, 

Vignette — Bethlehem, 

Mount  Moriah, 

Turner, 

Mount  Sinai, 
Mount  Hor, 

Harding, 

Mount  Pisgah, 

Turner, 

Mount  Carmel, 

Bartlett, 

Mount  Lebanon, 

Harding, 

Mount  Zion, 

Balmar, 

Mount  Tabor, 

Harding 

Mount  of  Olivai, 

u 

Frontispiece. 

Title. 

29 

41 

55 

67 

91 

109 

)18 

133 

14» 


I 


/  There  are  some  mountains  standing  on 
this  sphere  of  ours  that  seem  ahnost  con- 
scious* beings,  and  if  they  icoidd  but  speak, 
and  tell  what  they  have  seen  and  felt,  the 
traveller  who  pauses  at  their  base  would 
tremble  with  awe  and  alarm. 

For  some  good  reason,  the  Deity  has  usu- 
ally chosen  mountain  summits,  and  those 
which  are  isolated,  as  the  theatre  on  which 
to  make  the  grandest  exhibitions  of  himself. 
It  may  be  because  those  grand  and  striking 
features  in  nature  fix  the  locality  of  events 
so  that  they  never  can  fade  from  the  memory 
of  man.     The  giving  of  the  law  needs  no 


14  SACRLD      MOUNTAINS. 

• 

lofty  column  of  stone  to  commemorate  it. 
Mount  Sinai  lifts  its  awful  form  towards  the 
clouds,  a  perpetual  unwasting  monument. 
God's  exhibition  of  himself  to  the  awe-struck 
prophet,  as  he  passed  by  him  heralded  by 
the  storm,  the  earthquake  and  the  flame, 
needs  no  pyramid  to  consecrate  the  spot. 
Mount  Horeb  tells  where  the  Almighty  dim- 
med his  glory  and  covered  the  human  face  with 
his  fearful  hand,  so  that  his  brightness  might 
not  destroy  the  being  who  would  gaze  on  him. 
The  transfiguration  of  the  God-man  requires 
no  pillar  of  brass  to  arrest  the  eye  and  aid  the 
senses  as  man  contemplates  the  place  where 
the  wondrous  scene  transpired ;  Mount  Tabor 
is  its  everlasting  memorial.  Thus  do  moun- 
tain summits  stand  the  silent  yet  most  elo- 
quent historians  of  heaven  and  earth.! 

Another  reason  why  mountains  have  been 
chosen  by  the  Deity  for  his  most  solemn  rev- 
elations, may  be  that  their  solitude  and  far 
removal  from  human  interruption  and  the 
sounds  of  busy  life,  render  them  better  fitted 


MOUNTARARiT.  15 

for  such  communications  than  the  plain  and 
the  city./ 

The  •  first  in  the  list  of  Sacred  Mountains 
is  Mount  Ararat.  The  first  named  summit 
in  human  history,  it  emerges  from  the  flood 
and  lifts  its  head  over  the  water  to  look  down 
on  all  coming  generations  to  the  end  of  time. 
Whether  it  was  changed  in  that  mighty  con- 
vulsion which  drowned  the  world,  or  wheth- 
er its  lofty  peak  which  saw  the  swelling  wa- 
ters and  marked  their  steady  rise  remained 
the  same,  we  know  not.  At  all  events,  the 
mountain  looked  down  on  the  swaying  w^orld 
at  its  feet,  as  cities  floated  from  their  founda- 
tions and  came  dashing  against  its  sides,  tind 
beheld  a  wilder  scene  than  ever  covered  a 
battle-field,  as  it  heard  and  saw  sia:  genera- 
tions shriek  and  sink  together.  But  what- 
ever may  have  been  its /ormer  history,  it  now 
stands  as  the  only  memorial  of  the  flood.  Ri- 
sing like  a  sugar-loaf  from  a  chaos  of  peaks, 
which  gleam  and  glitter  in  the  sun-beams 
that  are  reflected  from  their  snowy  sides — 


1)  SACRED     IMOUNTAINS. 

overlooking  a  sea  on  one  side  and  a  desert  on 
the  other,  it  is  a  grand  and  striking  object  in 
itself,  but  made  still  more  so  by  the  associa- 
tions that  cluster  around  its  sacred  top.  It 
has  seldom  been  profaned  by  human  feet,  but 
there  was  a  time  when  the  sea  rolled  over  it, 
and  mightier  waves  than  ever  yet  swept  the 
sea  thundered  high  above  its  crown.  | 

Though  the  immediate  appearance  of  a 
fload  that  should  submerge  the  world  was 
an  event  that  staggered  human  belief,  yet 
Noah,  obedient  to  the  voice  of  Heaven,  be- 
gan his  ark  of  safety.  There  is  no  one  who 
does  not  lament  that  there  is  not  a  fuller,  an- 
tediluvian history.  We  merely  catch  the 
summits  of  events,  and  are  told  of  some  half 
a  dozen  things  that  happened,  while  all  the 
rest  is  wrapped  in  impenetrable  mystery. 
We  are  told  that  the  world  was  drowned, 
but  the  particulars  of  that  terrific  scene  are 
left  entirely  to  the  imagination.  It  is  only 
by  the  declaration  of  our  Lrod,  that  men 
were  busy  at  their  usual  occupations,  "  eat- 


M  O  U  N  T     A  R  A  R  A  T  .  17 

ing  and  drinking,  and  marrying  and  giving  in 
marriage,  till  the  flood  came  and  swept  them 
all  away,"  that  we  get  any  data  by  w^iich 
w^e  can  form  any  true  conception  of  the  ca- 
tastrophe. Yet  this  short  statement  is  w^orth 
every  thing,  and  with  it  before  me,  I  have 
sometimes  thought  I  could  almost  paint  the 
scene.  Noah,  whose  head  was  whitened  by 
the  frosts  of  six  centuries,  laid  the  foundation 
of  his  huge  vessel  on  a  pleasant  day,  when 
all  was  serene  and  tranquil.  The  fields  were 
smiling  in  verdure  before  his  eyes ;  the  per- 
fumed breezes  floated  by,  and  the  music  of 
birds  and  sounds  of  busy  life  were  about  him, 
when  he,  by  faith  alone,  laid  the  first  beam 
of  that  structure,  which  was  to  sail  over  a 
buried  planet.  When  men,  on  enquiring  the 
design  of  that  huge  edifice,  were  told  its  pur- 
pose, they  could  hardly  credit  their  senses^ 
and  Noah,  though  accounted  by  all  a  very 
upright  and  respectable  man,  became  a  jest 
for  children.  As  the  farmer  returned  at  even- 
ing from  the  fields,  and  the  gay  citizen  of 
2* 


18  SACRED     MOUNTAINS. 

the  town  drove  past,  they  christened  it 
"  Noah's  folly."  Those  more  aged  and  sober 
shook  their  heads  wisely,  saying,  ^'  The  old 
man  is  mad."  Even  the  workmen  engaged 
upon  it  laughed  as  they  drove  the  nails  and 
hewed  the  plank,  yet  declared  they  cared 
not  as  long  as  the  foolish  old  man  was  able 
to  pay.  Still  the  ark  went  up,  and  the  day's 
wonder  ceased  to  be  talked  about.  When  it 
was  finished,  and  curiosity  satisfied,  it  was 
dismissed  from  the  mind  as  a  passing  folly.  \ 

Yet  I  have  sometimes  wondered  what  peo- 
ple thought  when  they  saw  the  beasts  of  the 
field  and  the  forest,  and  fowls  of  the  air,  even 
the  venomous  serpent  and  the  strong-limbed 
lion  coming  in  pairs  to  that  ark.  This  must 
have  staggered  them  amazingly,  and  made  the 
ark  for  a  while  a  fresh  topic  of  conversation.\ 

At  length,  the  patriarch  with  his  family 
entered — the  door  was  shut  in  the  face  of 
the  world,  and  he  sat  down  on  the  strength 
of  a  single  promise  to  await  the  issue.  That 
night  the  sun  went  down  over  the  green  liills 


M  O  U  N  T      A  R  A  R  A  T  .  19 

beautiful  as  ever,  and  the  stars  came  out  in 
the  blue  sky,  and  nature  breathed  long  and 
peacefully.  In  the  morning  the  sun  rose  in 
undimnied  splendor  and  mounted  the  heav- 
ens. Deep  within  the  vast  building  Noah 
could  hear  the  muffled  sound  of  life  without. 
The  lowing  of  herds  came  on  his  ear,  and 
the  song  of  the  husbandman  going  to  his  toil, 
and  the  rapid  roll  of  carriage  wheels  as  they 
hurried  past,  and  perhaps  the  ribald  shout 
and  laugh  of  those  who  expended  their  wit 
on  him  and  his  ark  together.  To  say  noth- 
ing of  the  improbability  of  a  universal  deluge, 
the  idea  was  preposterous  that  sutili  a  helm- 
less,  helpless  affair  could  outride  a  Wrecked 
world.  Thus  day  after  day  passed  on  until 
a  week  had  gone  by,  but  still  the  faith  of 
that  old  man  never  shook.  At  length  the 
sky  became  overcast,  and  the  gentle  rain  de- 
scended— to  Noah  the  beginning  of  the  flood, 
to  the  world  a  welcome  shower.  The  far- 
mer, as  he  housed  his  cattle,  rejoiced  in  the 
refreshing   moisture,   while   the    city   never 


20  SACRED     MOUNTAINS. 

checked  its  ojaietv,  or  the  man  of  wealth  his 
plans.  But  as  the  rain  continued  day  after 
day,  and  fell  faster  and  fiercer  on  the  drench- 
ed earth,  and  the  swollen  streams  went  surg- 
ing by,  men  cursed  the  storm  that  seemed 
determined  never  to  break  up.  The  low- 
lands were  deluged ;  the  streams  broke  over 
their  banks,  bearing  houses  and  cattle  away 
on  their  maddened  bosoms.  Wealth  was 
destroyed  and  lives  lost,  till  men  talked  of 
ruined  fortunes,  famine  and  general  desola- 
tion; but  still  it  rained  on.  Week  after 
week  it  came  pouring  from  the  clouds,  till  it 
was  like  one  falling  sheet  of  water,  and  the 
inhabitants  could  no  longer  stir  from  their 
doors.  The  rich  valleys  that  lay  along  the 
rivers  were  flooded,  and  the  peasants  sought 
the  eminences  around  for  safety.  Yet  still 
the  w^ater  rose  around  them,  till  all  through 
the  valleys  nothing  but  little  black  islands 
of  human  beings  were  seen  on  the  surface. 
Oh,  then  what  fierce  struggles  there  were  for 
life  among  them.     The  motl>er  lifted  her  in- 


M  O  L  N  T      ARARAT.  21 

rant  above  her  head,  while  she  strove  to 
maintain  her  uncertain  footing  in  the  sweep- 
ing waters ;  the  strong  crowded  off  the  weak 
as  each  sought  the  highest  point ;  while  the 
living  mass  slowly  crumbled  away  till  the 
last  disappeared  and  the  swift  water  swept 
smooth  and  noiselessly  above  them  all.  Men 
were  heard  talking  of  the  number  of  lives 
lost  and  the  amount  of  wealth  destroyed,  de- 
claring that  such  a  flood  had  not  happened 
m  the  remembrance  of  the  oldest  man.  No 
one  yet  dreamed  of  the  high  grounds  being 
covered,  least  of  all  the  mountains.  To 
drown  the  world  it  must  rain  till  the  ocean 
itself  was  filled  above  its  level  for  miles,  and 
so  men  feared  it  not,  and  sought  for  amuse- 
ment within  doors  till  the  storm  should 
abate.  Oh,  what  scenes  of  vice  and  shame 
and  brutality  and  revelry  did  that  storm  wit 
ness  in  the  thronged  city,  and  what  unhal- 
lowed songs  mingled  in  the  pauses  of  the 
blast  that  swept  by./ 

But  at  length   anotlier  sound   was  heard 


22  SACRED     MOUNTAINS. 

that  sent  paleness  to  every  cheek,  and  chain- 
ed every  tongue  in  mute  terror.  It  was  a 
far  distant  roar,  faint  but  fearful,  yet  sound- 
ing more  distinct  and  ominous  every  mo- 
ment, till  it  filled  all  the  air.  The  earth 
trembled  and  groaned  under  it  as  if  an  earth- 
quake was  on  its  march,  and  ever  and  anon 
came  a  crash  as  if  the  "  ribs  of  nature"  were 
breaking.  Nearer  and  louder  and  more  ter- 
rible it  grew,  till  men^  forgetting  alike  their 
pleasure  and  their  anger,  rushed  out  in  the 
storm,  whispering,  "  The  flood !  the  flood" — 
and  lo,  a  new  sea,  the  like  of  which  no  man 
had  ever  seen  before,  came  rolling  over  the 
crouching  ^earth.  Stretching  from  horizon 
to  horizon,  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach, — 
losing  itself  like  a  limitless  wall  in  the  clouds 
above,  it  came  pouring  its  green  and  massive 
waters  onward,  while  the  continual  and 
rapid  crash  of  falling  forests  and  crushed 
cities  and  uptorn  mountains,  that  fell  one  af- 
ter another  under  its  awful  footsteps,  and  the 
successive  shrieks  that  pierced  the  heavens. 


M  0  1 ;  NT      A  R  A  T,  A  T  . . 


rising  even  above  the  deafening  roar  of  the 
on-rushing  ocean,  as  city  after  city  and  king- 
dom after  kingdom  disappeared,  made  a 
scene  of  terror  and  horror  inconceivable,  in- 
describable. "  The  fountains  of  the  great 
deep  loere  broken  upP/ 

But  the  last  cry  of  human  agony  was  at 
length  hushed — ocean  met  ocean  in  its  flow, 
and  the  waves  swept  on  without  a  shore. 
Oh,  what  a  wreck  was  there  !  the  wreck  of 
two  thousand  years,  with  their  cities,  culti- 
vated fields  and  mighty  population.  Not 
shivered  masts  and  broken  timbers,  the  re- 
mains of  some  gallant  vessel,  were  seen  on 
that  turbulent  surface,  but  the  fragments  of 
a  crushed  and  broken  world.  It  was  a  no- 
ble wreck — splendid  cities  and  towers,  gor- 
geous palaces,  gay  apparel,  the  accumulated 
wealth  and  luxury  of  twenty  centuries  strew- 
ing the  bosom  of  the  deluge,  like  autumn 
leaves  the  surface  of  some  forest  stream.  / 

But  amid  the  sudden  midnight  that  had 
wraoped  the  earth,  and  the  frenzy  of  the 


24  SACRED     M  O  U  N  T  A  I  N  S  . 

elements  and  utter  overthrow  and  chaos  of 
all  things,  there  was  one  heart  that  beat  as 
calmly  as  in  sleep  :  one  brow  over  wliich  no 
breath  of  passion  or  of  fear  passed:  one 
spirit  whose  serene  trust  never  shook:  for 
in  the  solitary  ark  that  lifted  to  the  heaving 
billows,  the  aged  patriarch  knelt  in  prayer. 
Amid  the  surging  of  that  fierce  ocean  his 
voice  may  not  have  been  heard  by  mortal 
ear,  but  the  light  of  faith  shone  round  his 
aged  form,  and  the  moving  lip  spoke  a  re- 
pose as  tranquil  as  childhood's  on  the  bosom 
of  maternal  love  The  patriarch's  God  ruled 
that  wild  scene  and  Noah  felt  his  frail  vessel 
quiver  in  every  timber,  without  one  tremor 
himself  Upborne  on  the  flood,  the  heaven- 
protected  ark  rose  over  the  buried  cities  and 
mountains,  and  floated  away  on  a  shoreless 
deep.  Like  a  single  drop  of  dew^  this  round 
sphere  of  ours  hung  and  trembled — a  globe 
of  water  in  mid-heaven.  I  have  often  won- 
dered what  the  conversations  were  during 
the  long  days  and  nights  that  lonely  ark  was/ 


MOUNT     ARARAT.  25 

riding  on  the  deep.  As  it  rose  and  fell  on 
the  long-protracted  swell,  massive  ruins 
would  go  thundering  by,  whole  forests  sink 
and  rise  with  the  billows,  while  ever  and 
anon  an  up  torn  hill,  as  borne  along  by  the 
resistless  tide  it  struck  a  buried  mountain, 
would  loom  for  a  moment  like  some  black 
monster  over  the  waves,  then  plunge  again 
to  the  fathomless  bottom.  Amid  this  wreck 
and  these  sights,  the  ark  sailed  on  in  safety. 
How  often  in  imagination  have  I  pictured  it 
in  the  deluge  at  midnight.  To  a  spectator 
what  an  object  of  interest  it  would  have 
been.  Round  the  wide  earth  the  light  from 
its  solitary  window  was  the  only  indication 
of  life  that  remained.  One  moment  it  would 
be  seen  far  up  on  the  crest  of  the  billow,  a 
mere  speck  of  flame  amid  the  limitless  dark- 
ness that  environed  it,  and  then  disappear 
in  the  gulfs  below  as  if  extinguished  forever. 
Thus  that  gentle  light  would  sink  and  rise 
on  the  breast  of  the  deluge,  the  last,  the  only 
hope  of  the  human  race.     Helmless,  and  ap^ 


26  SACRED     MOUNTAINS. 

parently  guideless,  its  wreck  seemed  inevita- 
ble, but  the  sea  never  rolled  that  could  ex- 
tinguish the  star-like  beam  that  told  where 
the  ark  still  floated.  Not  even  the  strong 
wind  that  the  Almighty  sent  over  the  water 
to  dry  it  up^  driving  it  into  billows  that 
stormed  the  heavens,  could  sink  it.  Though 
it  shook  like  a  reed  in  their  strong  grasp,  and 
floundered  through  the  deep  gulfs,  it  passed 
unerringly  on  to  the  summit  of  that  moun- 
tain on  which  it  was  to  rest ;  and  at  length 
struck  ground  and  ceased  its  turbulent  mo- 
tion. / 

Noah  waited  a  week,  and  then  sent  forth 
a  raven  to  explore  the  deep.  Though  the 
waters  still  swept  from  mountain  to  moun- 
tain, the  myriad  carcasses  that  floated  on 
the  surface  furnished  both  food  and  i;esting 
place,  and  he  returned  no  more.  He  then 
sent  forth  a  dove.  It  darted  away  from  the 
place  of  its  long  confirement,  and  sped  on 
ra^^Ivc  wing  over  the  flood,  now  turning  this 
way  and  now  that,  looking  in  vain  with  its 


^ 


MOUNTARARAT.  27 

giBntle  eye  for  the  green  earth,  and  at  last 
turned  back  towards  the  ark  of  rest.  The 
tap  of  its  snowy  wing  was  heard  on  the 
window,  and  the  patriarch  reached  forth  his 
hand  and  took  it  in.  The  fierce  pantings  of 
its  mottled  breast,  and  its  drooping  pinions, 
told  too  well  that  the  earth  gave  no  place  of 
repose.  But  the  second  time  it  was  sent 
abroad  ifreturned  with  an  olive  leaf  in  its 
mouth,  showing  that  the  earth  had  ri  en 
from  its  burial  and  was  sprouting  again  in 
verdure.  Then  the  patriarch  went  forth 
with  his  family  and  stood  on  Mount  Ararat, 
and  lo,  the  earth  was  at  his  feet,  but  how 
changed.  Cut  into  gorges  which  showed 
where  the  strong  currents  swept,  and  piled 
into  ridges,  it  bore  in  every  part  marks  of  - 
the  powder  that  had  ravaged  it.  Noah  and 
his  family  were  alone  in  the  world,  and  he 
built  an  altar  there  on  the  top  of  the  solitary 
mountain,  and  lifted  his  voice  in  praver,  and 
the  Almighty  talked  with  him  as  "  friend 
talketh  with  friend,"  bidding  him  go  forth 


»0  SACRED     IMOUN  TAINS. 

and  occupy  the  earth.  And  as  the  flame  of 
the  sacrifice  rose  from  the  mountain  top 
bearing  the  patriarch's  prayer  heavenward, 
the  promise  was  given  that  the  earth  should 
never  again  be  swept  by  a  deluge,  and  lo, 
God's  signet  ring  appeared  in  the  clouds, 
arching  the  man  of  God,  and  shown  as  a 
warrant  that  the  covenant  should  never  be 
broken. 

Baptized  by  the  flood — consecrated  by  the 
altar — illumined  by  the  first  fresh  rainbow, 
Mount  Ararat  stood  a  sacred  mountain  on 
the  earth.  / 


KX 


/  Mount  Moriah  stands  just  without  Jeru- 
salem and  is  now  crowned  with  the  mosque 
of  St.  Omar,  whose  entrance  has  long  been 
forbidden  to  the  Christian,  and  kept  sacred 
for  the  followers  of  Mahomet.  It  stands 
where  the  rude  altar  of  Abraham  rose  nearly 
four  thousand  years  ago.  The  proud  city 
has  risen  and  fallen  besiae  it,  the  genera- 
tions of  men  come  and  gone,  and  whole 
dynasties  of  kings  disappeared  one  after 
another,  yet  there  it  stands  as  it  stood  in 
the  wilderness  when  it  was  trodden  only 
by  the  wild  beast  of  the  forest.  / 

The  sacrifice  of  Abraham  which  conse- 
crated Mount  Moriah  is  to  me  one  of  the 

3* 


30  SACRED     MOUNTAINS. 

most  touching  events  in  human  history.  I 
can  never  read  over  the  unostentatious,  brief 
account  given  in  the  Bible  w^ithout  the  pro- 
foundest  emotions.  Know^ing  thai  parental 
feeling  and  human  nature  are  the  same  in 
all  ages,  my  imagination  immediately  fills  up 
the  sketch  in  all  its  thrilling  details.  The 
shock  of  the  announcement  by  God — the 
farewell  with  Sarah — the  three  days'  lonely 
journey — the  unconscious  playfulness  of 
Isaac  on  the*  way,  and  the  stern  struggle  of 
the  father's  heart  to  master  its  emotions,  all 
rise  before  me,  and  I  seem  to  hold  my  breath 
in  suspense  till  the  voice  of  the  angel  breaks 
the  painful  spell  and  the  uplifted  knife  is 
stayed. 

Abraham  had  long  wished  and  prayed  for 
a  son  who  should  inherit  his  property — ^bear 
up  his  name  and  transmit  it  to  posterity, 
until  it  had  become  the  absorbing  thought 
of  his  life.  Isaac  was  the  child  of  his  old 
age — his  only  son — the  single  link  on  which 
every  thing  rested,  and    in  him  were  gar- 


MOUNT     MORIAH.  31 

nered  all  the  love  and  hopes  of  his  noble 
heart.  But  if  he  was  an  object  of  such  in- 
tense affection  and  priceless  worth  to  Abra- 
ham, what  must  he  have  been  to  Sarah  1 
Oh,  who  can  tell  with  what  absorbing  love, 
what  inexpressible  fondness,  the  mother 
bowed  over  his  cradle  and  watched  his 
growing  strength.  Isaac ! — that  name  was 
to  her  the  embodiment  of  every  thing  beau- 
tiful and  lovely,  and  his  clear  laugh  never 
rung  out  on  the  morning  air  without  sending 
a  thrill  through  her  bosom  almost  painful 
from  its  intense  delight.  His  voice  without 
the  tent  would  arrest  her  in  the  midst  of  any 
occupation,  and  there  was  no  world  where 
her  boy  was  not.  But  this  beautiful  scion 
was  to  be  cut  off — this  bright  young  being 
slain,  and  the  father's  hand  was  to  do  the 
deed.  So  came  the  command  from  heaven  ; 
and  the  bolt  that  then  and  there  crushed 
through  Abraham's  heart  none  but  God  saw 
enter.     "Take  now  thy  son,  thy  only  son 


32  SACKED     MOUNTAINS. 

Isaac  whom  thou  lovest,'^  and  get  thee  intt> 
the  land  of  Moriah  and  offer  him  there 
for  a  burnt-oifering  on  one  of  the  moun- 
tains I  shall  tell  thee  of."  The  lightning 
had  fallen  and  the  aged  tree  was  struck 
though  not  shattered.  The  patriarch's  fear 
had  come  upon  him,  and  he  turned  to  his 
tent  that  night  with  a  cloud  on  his  soul  the 
light  of  faith  could  scarcely  pierce.  The 
voice  of  his  son  which  had  heretofore  made 
his  heart  leap  for  joy,  now  sent  a  pang 
through  it  as  if  it  were  the  last  cry  of  suffer- 
ing rather  than  the  call  of  affection.  No 
sleep  visited  his  eyes  that  night,  yet  he  kept 
the  fearful  tidings  to  himself  and  summoned 
all  his  energies  to  meet  the  terrible  trial  that 
awaited  him.  What !  tell  the  mother  that 
her  boy  was  to  be  slain  and  the  father  to  do 
the  deed — that  the  lamb  of  her  bosom  and 

*  I  know  that  some  commentators  make  Isaac  at  this  time 
a  young  man,  instead  of  a  child.  Whether  it  is  so  or  not,  or 
whether  even  the  age  of  twenty-five  in  that  period  of  longevity 
was  not  as  young  as  thirteen  now,  I  shall  not  discuss.  It  ia 
enough  for  me  that  the  Bible  calls  him  "  the  lad."  \ 


MOUNTMORIAH.  33 

the  only  joy  of  her  heart  was  to  be  gashed 
and  marred  by  the  cruel  knife  and  his  body 
burned  on  a  far  desolate  mountain  !  that  he 
was  to  come  back  no  more — his  voice  to 
cheer  her  loneliness  no  more,  but  his  ashes 
to  be  scattered  over  the  bleak  hill-side  by 
the  winds  of  heaven!  Oh  no!  the  burden 
was  heavy  enough  already,  without  taking 
upon  himself  the  mother's  grief  Beside,  that 
boy  could  never  leave  the  tent  in  the  morn- 
ing unconscious  of  his  approaching  fate,  if 
the  mother's  farewell  was  to  be  a  last  one. 
That  fatal  leave-taking  would  be  a  double 
sacrifice  and  before  the  time.  / 

The  morning  broke  clear  and  beautiful-r- 
the  asses  were  saddled  and  all  was  ready 
for  departure  ;  yet  still  Isaac  lingered  in  the 
tent,  covered  with  the  fond  caresses  of  his 
mother.  To  part  with  him  a  week  seemed 
like  losing  liim  an  age.  But  at  length  she 
led  him  forth  to  the  door  of  the  tent,  and  im- 
printing a  last  kiss  on  his  bright  young  fore- 
head, bade  him  go.     As  Abraham  saw  him 


34  SACRED.  MOUNTAINS. 

approach  with  half  a  smile  and  half  a  tear 
on  his  face,  he  thought  of  his  own  return 
without  him,  and  the  mute  despair  and 
crushing  agony  that  would  meet  him  when 
he  should  stand  speechless  and  desolate 
before  his  wife.  Who  could  answer  her  in- 
quiries 1  who  still  her  piercing  cries  for  Isaac 
her  only  son?  All  these  thoughts  rushed 
over  the  patriarch's  heart  bearing  him  to  the 
earth,  yet  his  firm  soul  never  betrayed  his 
emotions,  and  he  turned  away  to  meet  the 
struggle  before  him  without  faltering  or  de- 
lay. His  tent  disappeared  in  the  distance, 
and  the  last  object  visible  on  the  plain  was 
the  form  of  Sarah  watching  them  from  afar. 
For  three  weary  days  did  Abraham  journey 
on,  pressed  with  a  single  thought,  crushed 
by  one  over-mastering  sorrow,  and  yet  with- 
out a  heart  to  sympathize  with  him.  Isaac, 
on  whose  pure  spirit  young  hopes  lay  like 
morning  dew-drops — to  whom  life  was  fresh, 
joyous  and  radiant,  and  the  earth  belted 
with    rainbows — talked    ceaselessly   of  the 


MOUNTMORIAH.  35 

new  objects  and  scenes  that  passed  before 
them.  But  his  delights,  his  innocent  enjoy- 
ment, brought  only  a  deeper  shade  on  Abra- 
ham's brow,  and,  if  he  smiled  to  please  his 
child,  it  was  a  smile  more  painful  to  behold 
than  his  look  of  sadness.  Each  answer  to 
his  inquiries  seemed  a  heartless  deception, 
and  the  weary  hours  a  mere  prolongation  of 
the  mockery  of  his  young  affections  and  de- 
sires and  joys.  And  when  that  son  pillowed 
his  head  on  his  bosom  at  night,  and  Abra- 
ham too  desolate  to  sleep,  listened  to  his  calm 
breathings,  methinks  his  purpose  to  slay 
him  almost  faltered ;  and,  when  the  morning 
broke  over  the  landscape,  and  he  watch- 
ed him  still  in  beauty  by  his  side,  the  task 
required  of  him  seemed  too  great  for  human 
strength.  But  the  darker  the  hour  grew, 
and  the  more  fixed  the  irrevocable  decree, 
the  heavier  he  leaned  on  the  Omnipotent 
arm.  / 

After    three    days'    toilsome    travel,    the 
mountain  at  length  rose   before  them,  and 


36  SACRED     MOUNTAINS. 

Abraham  bidding  his  servants  wait  his  re- 
turn, took  his  son  and  began  to  ascend  its 
rugged  sides.  Like  the  great  antitype  who 
bore  his  own  cross  up  Calvary,  Isaac  carried 
the  wood  for  the  burnt-offering  on  his 
shoulders,  while  Abraham  took  the  fire  and 
knife  in  his  hand.  '^  So  they  went  both  of 
them  together."  It  requires  no  vivid  imagi- 
nation to  fill  up  this  scene,  so  slightly 
sketched  in  the  Bible.  Human  nature  is 
the  same  the  world  over,  and  as  the  hour 
of  stern  trial  approached,  Abraham  became 
silent  and  sad.  The  fire  and  knife  in  his 
hand,  caused  him  to  shudder,  for  they  made 
what  had  before  been  a  vision,  a  passing 
fact,  and  he  started  as  the  blade  glittered  in 
the  sunlight,  as  if  he  already  saw  it  quivering 
in  his  son's  bosom.  But  Isaac,  unconscious 
of  the  fate  before  him,  continued  to  talk  with 
dU  the  gaiety  and  carelessness  of  boyhood, 
until,  at  length,  sobered  by  his  father's  stern 
aspect,  and  the  toil  of  the  way  together,  he 
too  grew  silent,    As  his  buoyant  spirits  sub-\  \ 


MOUNT     MORIAH.  37 

sided,  his  thoughts  naturally  turned  upon 
the  solemn  event  that  seemed  so  to  absorb 
and  subdue  his  father.  Suddenly  it  flashed 
over  him  that  there  was  no  lamb  for  the  of- 
fering, and,  thinking  it  must  have  been  for- 
gotten, he  turned  to  his  father  with  an 
awakened,  enquiring  look,  and  exclaimed, 
*' Father,  father!"  "What,  my  son,"  was 
the  half  absent  reply.  "  Behold  the  wood 
and  the  fire,  but  where  is  the  lamb  for  the 
offering  V[  Oh,  who  can  tell  the  pang  that 
question  shot  through  the  father's  heart. 
The  tone,  the  look  all  showed  the  very  soul 
of  confidence  and  love,  and  Abraham  stag- 
gered under  the  sudden  gush  of  feeling  as  if 
smitten  by  a  blow.  But  pressing  down  by 
a  strong  effort  the  emotions  that  suffocated 
him,  he  replied  in  a'  faint  and  tremulous 
voice :  "  My  son,  God  icill  provide  himself  a 
lamb  for  a  burnt-offejivgJ^  This  satisfied 
him,  and  he  lapsed  again  into  silence,  though 
his  youthful  heart  began  to  tremble  before  a 
vague  undefined  fear  of  some  coming  evil./ 


SACRED     MOUNTAINS. 


The  mountain  breeze  as  it  swept  by,  had  a 
mournful  sound — not  a  living  thing  disturbed 
the  solitude,  and  "  so  they  went  both  of 
them  together."  But  when  Isaac  saw  his 
father  begin  to  bind  him,  as  he  had  ©ften 
seen  him  bind  the  lamb  for  sacrifice,  and  the 
terrible  truth  at  length  flashed  on  his  mind 
tliat  he  was  to  be  slain,  who  can  tell  the 
consternation  of  his  young  heart !  Oh,  who 
can  tell  the  pleading  looks  and  still  more 
pleading  language,  and  tears  with  which  he 
prayed  his  father  to  spare  him !  And  who 
can  tell  the  anguish  of  that  paternal  heart  as 
it  met  each  sob  and  agonizing  cry  with  the 
stern  language,  "  My  son,  God  has  chosen 
thee  as  the  lamb  for  the  burnt-offering." 
Me  thinks,  as  fear  gradually  yielded  to  filial 
obedience,  and  to  the  command  of  heaven, 
and  the  moving  words,  "mi/  mother^  my 
mctheTj'^  died  away  in  indistinct  murmurs, 
that  Isaac  did  not  close  his  eyes  against 
the  fatal  blow,  but  opened  them  instinc- 
tively on  his   father,  his  only  help  in  thr.t  \ 


MOUNT     M3RIAH.  39 

fearful  hour,  and  still  watched  the  glitter- 
ing blade  as  it  quivered  like  a  serpent's 
tongue  above  his  bosom,  for  it  was  his  father 
who  was  about  to  strike.  But  oh,  who 
nerved  the  parent's  heart  in  that  terrible 
moment  ?  As  his  hand  put  back  the  clus- 
tering ringlets  from  that  fair  young  forehead, 
and  his  glance  pierced  the  depth  of  those 
eyes  fixed  so  lovingly  yet  despairingly  on 
him,  who  gave  steadiness  to  his  arm,  and 
strength  to  his  will,  as  he  bent  to  the  fatal 
stroke  1  He  who  cried,  "  Abraham,  Abra- 
ham !  spare  thy  son ;  Lay  not  thy  hand 
upon  the  lad,  neither  do  thou  any  thing  unto 
him,  for  now  I  know  that  thou  fearest  God, 
seeing  that  thou  hast  not  withheld  thy  son, 
thine  only  son  from  me."  Faith  was  trium- 
phant— the  gold  had  been  tried  and  found 
pure,  the  father  tasked  to  the  uttermost  and 
stood,  and  lo,  Isaac  bounded  from  the  altar, 
in  all  the  joy  of  recovered  freedom,  and  fell 
on  his  father's  neck  in  passionate  tears. 
Oh,  did  ever  father  and  son  bend  in  such 


40  SACRED     MOUNTAINS. 

overwhelming  gratitude  before  an  altar  as 
they,  or  did  the  smoke  of  sacrifice  ever  go 
up  over  two  more  devoted  hearts  than  then 
and  there  went  up  from  the  top  of  Moriah. 
Faith  sublime,  unequalled  holy  faith,  conse- 
crated that  mountain  forever. 

Years  afterward  the  temple  of  Solomon 
threw  the  sunbeams  upon  it,  and  the  chil- 
dren of  Israel  paid  their  vows  there,  but  it 
has  no  memorial  like  that  of  the  offering  up 
of  Isaac.  / 


.  .r5L,'. 


MO 


/  Standing  in  the  midst  of  some  of  the  most 
desolate  scenery  in  the  world,  Mount  Sinai 
lifts  its  huge  form  into  the  heavens,  like  some 
monster  slumbering  in  conscious  strength. 
Its  bald  and  naked  summit — its  barren  and 
rockv  sides,  and  all  its  sombre  features,  cor- 
respond  perfectly  to  the  surrounding  scene. 
It  is  a  wild  and  desolate  spot,  and  were 
there  even  no  associations  connected  with  it, 
the  loneliness  and  gloom  that  surround  it 
would  arrest  the  traveller,  and  cause  him  to 
shudder  as  he  pitched  his  tent  under  its 
shadow.  But  Mount  Sinai  has  associations 
that  render  it  chief  among  the  Sacred  Moun- 
tains.    The  moral,   the   divine  instructions 


42  SACRED     MOUNTAINS. 

given  to  man  from  its  summit,  are  of  course 
the  things  of  chief  importance,  but  as  these 
are  always  wholly  dwelt  upon,  I  speak  only 
of  the  outward  scenes  amid  which  they  were 
imparted.  Nor  is  this  without  its  use;  for 
we,  half  the  time,  lose  the  freshness,  I  might 
say  the  naturalness^  of  much  that  is  said  in 
the  Bible,  by  involving  it  in  a  sort  of  super- 
natural indefiniteness.  We  remove  the  per- 
sons and  the  objects,  and  in  doing  it  lose  the 
power  which  familiar  scenes  always  have 
over  the  mind.  There  can  be  a  no  more 
striking  illustration  of  this  truth  than  in  the 
different  effects  produced  on  a  congregation 
by  the  different  manner  in  which  some  de- 
scriptive scene  in  the  Bible  is  read.  One 
will  read  in  a  strained,  monotonous  voice,  as 
if  naturalness  betokened  too  great  familiarity 
with  sacred  things,  and  is  astonished  that 
men  care  so  little  for  the  reading  of  the 
Scriptures.  Anotlier,  as  if  he  himself  were 
narrating  the  facts  for  the  first  time,  and 
every  eye  and  ear  is  fixed.    If  the  crucifixion 


MOUNTSINAl.  43 

could  be  made  definite  as  a  common  murder 
scene,  and  the  agony  in  the  garden  as  fa- 
miliar as  the  throes  and  torture  of  a  friend 
in  the  extremest  agony  of  human  nature, 
they  would  not,  they  could  not,  be  read  with 
so  little  feeling  as  they  are.  Said  a  lawyer 
to  me  once,  "  You  Christians  lose  half  the 
beauty  of  thS  Bible  by  putting  your  minds 
into  such  a  strained,  solemn  attitude  the  mo- 
ment you  open  it.  I  take  it  up  as  I  would  a 
law  book,  and  new  truths,  new  beauty,  and 
new  sublimity  appear  on  every  page."  Our 
senses  are  the  inlets  to  our  minds.  The 
Deity  acts  on  this  principle  when  he  accom- 
panies all  developments  of  himself  with  such 
renxarkable  outward  appearances.  Even  the 
Son  of  God  must  die  amid  the  throbs  of  an 
earthquake,  the  rending  of  graves  and  the 
blotting  out  of  the  sun.  The  giving  of  the 
law,  too,  was  done  amid  scenes  that  were 
designed  never  to  be  forgotten. 

Behold  the  white  tents  of  Israel  scattered 
like  snow  flakes  at  the  base  of  that  treeless, 


44  SACRED     MOUNTAINS. 

barren  mountain.  The  hum  of  a  mighty 
population  is  there,  and  tJiose  flowing  tents 
on  which  the  parting  sun  is  leaving  his  fare- 
well glories  are  the  only  pleasing  objects 
that  meet  the  eye  in  this  dreary  region.  A 
solemn  hush  is  on  every  thing  as  the  moon 
sails  up  the  heavens,  flooding  with  her  gen- 
tle light  the  tented  host.  Moses  has  de- 
clared that  on  the  third  morning  the  eternal 
God  is  to  place  his  feet  on  that  distant 
mountain  top  in  presence  of  all  the  people. 
Awe-struck  and  expectant,  the  sons  of  Jacob 
go  from  tent  to  tent  to  speak  of  this  strange 
event,  and  then  corje  out  and  look  on  the 
mysterious  mountain  on  which  it  is  to  tran- 
spire. Unconscious  of  its  high  destiny,  the 
dpstant  summit  leans  against  the  solemn  sky, 
and  nothing  there  betokens  preparation  for 
the  stupendous  scene.  / 

But  at  length  the  morning  comes  and  that 
vast  encampment  ib  filled  with  the  murmur 
of  the  moving  multitude,  all  turned  anxiously 
to  distant  Sinai.     And  lo!  a  solitary  cloud 


♦ 


MOUWTSINAI.  45 

comes  drifting  along  the  morning  sky  and 
catches  against  the  top  of  the  mountain.  So 
have  I  seen  a  cloud  caught  \)j  an  Alpine 
summit  and  held  firmly  there.  But  the  most 
vivid  impression  I  ever  got  of  this  scene  was 
from  Mount  Vesuvius.  The  mysterious 
cloud  it  wraps  around  its  own  head,  conceal- 
ing the  brightness  and  terror  within,  always 
reminded  me  of  the  cloud  on  Sinai.  And 
then  the  tenacity  with  which  it  would  cling 
there.  When  the  midnight  heavens  were 
black  with  tempests,  and  the  sea  was  one 
wild  waste  of  waves,  and  the  clouds  were 
dashing  like  maddened  spirits  over  the  sky 
before  the  blast — with  every  flash  of  light- 
ning that  illumined  the  gloom,  I  have  caught 
the  distant  top  of  Vesuvius  .with  that  cloud 
around  its  head,  moveless  as  a  rock  amid 
the  furious  blast,  while  thunder  and  flame 
and  motion  were  within.  So  did  the  cloud 
rest  on  Sinai  as  the  people  looked,  and  sud- 
denly the  thunder  began  to  speak  from  its 
depths,  and  the  fierce  lightning  traversed  its 


46  SACRED     MOUNTAINS. 

bosom,  gleaming  and  flashing  through  every 
part  of  it.  That  cloud  was  God's  pavilion  ; 
the  thunder  was  its  sentinels,  and  the  light- 
ning the  lances'  points  as  they  moved  round 
the  sacred  trust.  The  commotion  which 
from  the  first  arrested  every  eye  and  chained 
every  tongue,  grew  wilder  every  moment  till 
the  successive  claps  of  thunder  were  like  the 
explosion  of  ten  thousand  cannon  shaking 
the  earth.  Amid  this  incessant  firing  of 
heaven's  artillery,  suddenly  from  out  the 
bosom  of  that  cloud  came  a  single  trumpet 
blast.  Not  like  the  thrilling  music  of  a  thou- 
sand trumpets  that  herald  the  shock  of  cav- 
alry; but  one  solitary  clarion  note  with  no 
sinking  cadence  and  rising  swell,  but  an  infi- 
nite sound  rising  in  its  ascension  power,  till 
the  universe  was  filled  with  the  strain.  .  The 
incessant  thunders  that  rock  the  heights  can- 
not drown  it,  for  clearer,  fuller,  louder,  it 
peals  on  over  the  astonished  spectators,  till 
their  hearts  sink  away  in  fear,  and  nature 
herself  stands  awe-struck  and  trembling  be- 


M  O  U  N  T     S  I  N  A  I  47 

fore  it.  And  lo  !  columns  of  smoke  begin  to 
rise  fast  and  furious,  from  that  mysterious 
cloud,  as  if  a  volcano  had  opened  in  its 
bosom,  and  the  pent-up  elements  were  dis- 
charging themselves  in  the  upper  air;  and 
the  steady  mountain  rocks  to  and  fro  on  its 
base,  as  if  in  the  grasp  of  an  earthquake. 
"And  the  smoke  thereof  ascended  as  the 
smoke  of  a  great  furnace,  and  the  whole 
mount  quaked  greatly."/ 

Amid  this  rapid  roll  of  thunder,  and  flashing 
of  lightning,  and  fiercely  ascending  volumes 
of  smoke,  and  convulsive  throbs  of  Sinai, 
and  while  that  trumpet  strain  still  "  waxed 
louder  and  louder,"  Moses  led  the  trembling 
Israelites  forth  to  the  foot  of  the  mountain. 
Suddenly  the  uproar  ceased,  and  the  thun- 
ders hushed  their  voice,  and  the  last  echo  of 
the  trumpet  died  away,  and  all  was  still. 
And  from  that  silent  cloud  came  a  voice 
more  fearful  than  "they  all — the  voice  of  Je- 
hovah calling  Moses  up  into  the  mount. 
The  great  lawgiver  of  Israel  parted  from 


48  SACRED     MOUNTAINS. 

his  people,  and  with  solemn  step  was  seen 
scaling  the  rocks  and  climbing  the  heights, 
till  at  last  the  cloud  received  him  in  its 
bosom. 

The  moral  law  wa§  given,  and  also  the 
civil  code,  which  men  have  so  learnedly- 
traced  to  the  social  compact.  The  first  act 
in  the  mighty  drama  was  ended,  and  Moses 
was  ordered  to  bring  up  Aaron  and  Nadab 
and  Abihu,  and  seventy  of  the  elders,  to 
worship  in  the  mountain ;  and  God  showed 
himself  in  his  glory  to  them. 

When  this  strange  worship  was  ended, 
the  voice  of  Jehovah  was  again  heard  issu- 
ing from  the  cloud ;  but  what  a  change  in 
the  mean  time  had  passed  over  its  dark 
form.  A  serene  and  pure  radiance  began  to 
play  around  it,  quivering  like  a  bright  light 
with  its  own  intensity.  Brighter  and  brighter 
it  grew  till  the  eye  turned  away  dazzled  by 
the  sight.  Brighter  still  it  gleamed  till  it 
seemed  a  glowing  furnace,  shooting  forth 
living  fire  on  every  side.   Its  wrathful  streaks 


MOUNTSINAI.  49 

Streamed  down  the  mountain,  filling  the 
cavities  with  deeper  gloom,  touching  every 
rock  and  crag  with  flame,  and  -bathing  the 
white  tents  in  a  lurid  light.  And  when  the 
night  came  on,  and  darkness  wrapped  the 
world,  that  mountain  was  one  blaze  of  glory, 
shedding  a  strange  lustre  on  the  barren 
scene,  and  revealing  every  face  and  form  of 
that  immense  host,  as  if  they  stood  beneath 
a  burning  palace, — ^painting  with  terrible  dis- 
tinctness, and  in  lines  of  fire,  the  surrounding 
landscape.  The  stars  went  out  before  its 
brilliancy,  and  the  moon  lookcvA  dark  in  its 
splendor.  For  six  days  and  nights  did  the 
glory  flame  on,  shedding  such  a  baptism  on 
the  wondei'ing  camp  as  was  never  before 
witnessed  by  mortal  eye,  for  "  the  sight  of 
the  glory  of  the  Lord  was  like  a  devouring 
fire  on  the  top  of  the  mount  in  the  eyes  of 
the  children  of  Israel."  Little  sleep  was  in 
the  tents  of  Jacob  then,  for  each  one  held  his 
breath  in  awe,  wondering  what  next  would 
Happen  in  this  succession  of  strange  scenes. 


50  SACRED     MOUNTAINS. 

At  length  that  voice,  before  which  nature 
herself  seemed  to  change,  again  issued  from 
the  cloud,  calling  Moses  to  a  second  inter- 
Yiew.  Taking  Joshua  with  him,  he  again 
ascended  the  hill,  and  was  wrapped  from 
sight  ''  forty  days  and  forty  nights.' V 

But  as  week  after  week  passed  by,  and 
there  were  no  farther  exhibitions,  and  Moses 
did  not  return,  the  people  passed  fj^m  idlo 
ness  into  pleasure,  and  from  pleasure  into  in 
fidelity,  and  at  length  emboldened  by  their 
own  numbers,  assembled  tumultuously  to- 
gether and  demanded  another  God,  saying, 
"  As  for  tliis  man  Moses,  w^ho  has  brought  us 
here,  we  do  not  know  what  has  become  of 
him."  The  golden  calf  was  made,  and  the 
intoxicated  throng  danced  around  it.  What 
a  scene  was  there!  Right  at  the  foot  of 
Sinai,  where  a  month  before  they  had  heard 
the  thunders  and  trumpet  and  voice,  and 
seen  the  lightnings  and  the  glory;  danced, 
and  shouted,  and  sung,  in  bacchanalian 
frenzy  the  naked  multitude — hailing  in  bois- 


M  O  U  N  T     S  I  N  A  I  .  51 

terous  shouts  a  golden  calf  as  their  god ! 
What  a  contrast  to  the  scene  passing  on  the 
top  of  the  mountain  between  Jehovah  and 
Moses ! !  / 

In  the  midst  of  this  wild  and  blasphemous 
revel,  Moses  was  seen  descending,  with 
thoughtful  step,  the  distant  slope,  bearing  in 
his  arms  the  tables  of  the  law.  At  length, 
as  he  and  Joshua,  in  serious  converse,  passed 
along,  they  came  within  hearing  of  the  tu- 
mult below.  Suddenly  stopping,  they  turned 
their  anxious  eyes  to  the  white  tents,  far, 
far  down  in  the  valley,  and  Joshua  said, 
*'  There  is  fighting  in  the  camp :  I  hear  the 
sound  of  battle."  But  the  practiced  ear  of 
Moses  knew  too  well  the  meaning  of  that 
confused  murmur.  "  No,"  said  he,  "  that  is 
not  the  shout  of  victors  in  the  pursuit,  nor 
the  shriek  of  the  vanquished  flying  in  fear, 
'  but  the  noise  of  them  that  sing  do  I  hear.'  " 
As  he  drew  near  and  saw  the  shameless 
revel  and  blasphemous  worship,  he  cast  the 
tables  at  his  feet  and  rushed  into  the  camp. 


52  SACRED     MOUNTAINS. 

The  naked  throng  paled  before  him  as  if  he 
had  been  a  messenger  of  deatii ;  the  dancing 
ceased,  and  the  «ong  and  deafening  shouts 
were  suddenly  hushed.  Turning  neither  to 
the  right  hand  nor  the  left,  he  passed,  with 
a  brow  dark  as  wrath,  to  the  golden  idol, 
and  hurling  it  into  the  fire  trampled  it 
under  foot.  Then  turning  to  Aaron,  he 
asked  an  explanation  of  this  strange  scene.  / 
As  soon  as  it  was  given,  he  hastened  to 
the  gate  of  the  camp,  and  sending  his  voice 
like  a  trumpet  call  through  the  host,  cried 
out,  "  Whoever  is  on  the  Lord's  side,  let  him 
come  to  me !"  The  sons  of  Levi  separated 
themselves  from  the  crowd  and  flocked  about 
him.  "  Seize  now,  (said  he  to  these,)  every 
man  his  sword,  and  go  in  agd  out  from  gate 
to  gate  throughout  the  camp,  and  slay  every 
man  his  brother,  and  every  man  his  com- 
panion, and  every  man  his  neighbor."  Amid 
the  silence  that  followed  were  heard  sobs 
and  cries  of  despair ;  and  lo !  that  terrible 
band,   with   drawn   swords   press   into   the 


MOUNTSINAI.  53 

throng.  There  is  no  shout  of  battle,  no  cry 
of  anger,  though  the  sword  drinks  blood  at 
every  step.  The  moan  of  despair  and  the 
sudden  death-shriek  alone  tell  where  those 
stern  warriors  pass.  And  now,  enveloped  in 
the  dense  mass,  the  eye  can  tell  where  they 
move  only  by  the  flash  of  dripping  swords, 
as  they  sweep  in  angry  circles  above  their 
heads.  Though  their  hearts  bleed  at  every 
stroke,  and  a  deeper  paleness  is  on  their 
brow  as  they  sheathe  their  weapons  in  theii 
brethrens'  bosoms,  and  the  lip  quivers  before 
the  beseeching  look  of  a  once  beloved  friend, 
their  steadfast  hearts  must  feel  no  relenting, 
rhe  dead  lie  in  swaths  where  they  go,  and 
their  weary  arms  droop  beneath  the  pro- 
tracted slaughtgr,  yet  on,  on  they  press,  till 
tliree  thousand  corpses  cumber  the  field. 
Terrible  scene — terrible  vengeance — but  the 
sword  of  Divine  Justice  is  ever  awful.  / 

Why  speak  of  the  after  repentance  and 
consecration — of  the  second  ascent  into  Sinai 
— of  the  passing  of  Jehovah  before  Moses — 


54  SACRED     MOUNTAINS. 

of  the  still  radiance  that  beamed  from  his 
face  as  he  came  once  more  unto  the  people, 
until  they  turned  dazzled  from  his  presence. 
The  mighty  pageant  at  length  closed — the 
cloud-column  rose  from  before  the  tabernacle 
and  moved  into  the  desert ;  the  tents  were 
struck ;  and  the  host,  headed  by  that  myste- 
rious pillar,  in  one  long  column  disappeared 
in  the  wilderness,  and  that  fearful  mountain 
was  left  once  more  alone  amid  the  bleak  and 
barren  scenery. 

Turned  into  sapphire  by  Jehovah's  feet, 
consecrated  by  his  touch,  and  baptized  by 
the  cloud  of  fire  and  of  glory.  Mount  Sinai 
stood  the  third  Sacred  Mountain  on  the 
earth.  / 


M 


/It  must  have  been  a  grievous  offence  of 
which  Moses  and  Aaron  were  guilty,  when 
commanded  to  bring  water  out  of  the  rock 
for  the  children  of  Israel,  to  have  demanded 
such  punishment  from  heaven  as  was  imme- 
diately pronounced.  That  miracle  must 
have  been  attended  with  strange  exhibitions 
of  human  presumption  and  rebellion,  or  God 
would  not  have  slain  the  two  great  leaders 
of  Israel,  after  all  their  toils  on  the  very 
margin  of  the  promised  land,  and  conferred 
the  honor  of  conducting  his  people  over  Jor- 
dan, on  one  whose  labors  seemed  to  give 
him  no  claim  to  it.  Said  God  to  Moses  and 
Aaron,   "  Because   ye   believed   me  not,  to 


56 


ACRED     MOUNTAINS. 


sanctify  me  in  the  eyes  of  the  children  of  Is- 
rael, therefore  ye  shall  not  bring  this  congre- 
gatioQ  into  the  land  which  I  have  given 
tliem."  Aaron  was  the  first  to  bow  to  tnis 
stern  decree,  and  died  on  the  top  of  Mount 
Hor,  while  Moses  was  permitted  to  feast  his 
eyes  on  the  promised  land, — then  bm'ied  on 
the  summit  of  Pisgah.  These  two  great 
leaders  in  Israel — these  wonderful  brothers 
to  whon'  the  Gracchi  and  Horatii  of  the 
world  r.re  but  as  dim  shadows  of  men,  died 
on  i  io  mountain  peaks,  making  them  im- 
mortal in  history.  / 

Aaron  never  appears  so  perfect  a  charac-. 
ter  as  Moses.  He  does  not  seem  so  much 
above  the  follies  and  prejudices  of  his  age. 
He  was  more  a  man  of  the  times,  subject  to 
passing  influences  and  prevailing  tastes.  Mo- 
ses, on  the  contrary,  was  one  of  those  rare 
characters  in  history  which  seem  to  live  in 
the  past,  present,  and  future.  Eeverencing  the 
good  that  has  been — understanding  the  full 
scope  and  drift  of^the  present,  he  at  the  same 


MOUNT     H  O  R 


67 


time  comprehends  and  lives  in  the  future. 
Such  a  man  the  ardor  of  hope  never  beguiles 
into  scorn  of  the  past,  nor  over-reverence  of 
the  present.  Like  those  mountain  summits 
which  first  catch  the  sunhght,  he  rises  out 
of  the  darkness  and  prejudice  below  him, 
heralding  the  day  that  is  approaching.  Nei- 
ther does  Aaron  seem  borne  up  and  onward 
by  so  lofty  a  feeling  as  he.  With  mind  less 
strong,  he  lacked  also  the  enthusiasm  of  his 
brother.  Yet  he  must  have  possessed  rare 
gifts  to  have  been  chosen  the  companion  and 
fellow-laborer  of  Moses  in  that  wondrous 
deliverance  of  the  children  of  Israel  from 
Egypt,  and  in  conducting  them  forty  years 
through  the  wilderness  to  the  promised  land. 
Much  more  must  he  have  possessed,  an  ele- 
vation and  purity  of  character  far  above  his 
fellows,  to  have  been  chosen  as  the  founder 
of  the  Jewish  priesthood — the  first  to  minis- 
ter at  the  altar,  and  to  represent  a  sacerdotal 
dynasty  more  glorious  and  more  immortal 


68  SACRED     MOUNTAINS. 

than  the  line  even  of  David,  or  any  succes- 
sion of  kings  that  ever  filled  a  throne.  / 

Chosen  by  God  to  stand  beside  Moses 
through  the  night  of  peril  and  trouble  on 
which  the  children  of  Jacob  were  entering, 
he  was  sent  to  meet  him  on  his  way  from 
the  wilderness.  Obeying  the  command,  he 
set  out  in  search  of  his  brother,  and  lo,  they 
met  "  on  the  Mount  of  GodJ''  and  kissed  each 
other,  and  returned  togetJier,  conversing  as 
they  went,  to  the  court  of  Pharaoh.  Who 
can  tell  the  misgivings  and  fear  of  these  soli- 
tary brothers,  standing  unprotected  by  hu- 
man power  before  the  throne  of  Pharaoh, 
and  raining  on  the  oppressive  monarch  the 
terrible  denunciations  of  heaven  ^  Who  has 
ever  repeated  their  solemn  inierviews  as 
they  retired  aj^^art  and  conversed  of  the  mira- 
cles they  had  performed,  and  the  message 
of  God  w^hich  daily  came  to  them  from 
heaven  ?  Brave  men  !  day  after  day  they 
stood  between  their  enslaved  brethren  and 
a  haughty  court,  waiting  patiently  the  ful- 


MOUNT     HOR.  59 

filment  of  the  promise,  still  delayed,  until  at 
lengtli  their  efforts  were  crowned  with  suc- 
cess, and  the  thousands  of  Israel  separated 
themselves  from  their  task-masters,,  and  at 
midnight  moved  away  from  the  scene  of  their 
degradation  and  their  sufferings.  Through 
all  those  terrible  plagues  that  desolated 
Egypt — in  the  desperate  retreat  before  the 
thundering  chariots  of  Pharaoh's  army — 
amid  the  murmuring  multitude  that  clam- 
ored against  their  deliverers  who  had  thus 
led  them  forth  only  to  be  slaughtered — 
through  the  channel  of  deep  waters,  while 
the  waves  foamed  and  crested  along  the 
high  brink  that  toppled  above,  Aaron  never 
faltered,  but,  side  by  side  with  his  brother, 
moved  firm  and  steady  as  the  pillar- of  fire 
that  led  them  on.  / 

At  length  he  was  called  forth  from  the 
congregation  by  the  voice  of  God,  and  or- 
dained High  Priest,  amid  the  most  solemn 
ceremonies  that  ever  attended  a  human 
anointing,  and  the  sacred  robe  was  put  about 


60  SACRED     MOUNTAINS. 

him,  and  he  stood  the  mediator  between  the 
people  and  their  Maker.  / 

But  in  the  sedition  which  he  planned  with 
Miriam  against  his  brother,  he  was  governed 
by  a  spirit  of  envy  and  a  desire  to  overthrow 
him,  and  exhibited  that  weakness  of  charac- 
ter of  which  I  spoke.  Yet,  doubtless,  Miriam 
was  the  more  guilty  of  the  two,  in  this  shame- 
ful conspiracy ;  for  when  the  Lord  suddenly 
descended  in  the  pillar  of  cloud,  and,  with 
Moses,  and  Aaron,  and  Miriam  before  him, 
sternly  rebuked  the  erring  brother  and  sister, 
the  latter  only  was  punished.  Smitten  with 
leprosy,  she  emerged  from  the  mysterious 
cloud  that  covered  the  tabernacle,  "  white  as 
snow."  So  also  in  making  the  golden  calf 
at  the  bidding  of  the  people,  and  allowing 
them  to  degrade  themselves  in  the  eyes  of 
God  and  man,  he  showed  that  he  lacked  the 
loftiness  of  character  which  made  Moses  so 
much  feared,  and  rendered  him  so  utterly  in- 
capable of  becoming  a  partner  in  such  folly 
and  wickedness.     Still   he  was  made  the 


MOUNT     HOR.  61 

first  High  Priest  of  Israel,  and  clothed  t\  ith 
the  richest  honors  of  heaven.  / 

But  like  Moses,  he  was  not  to  see  Canaan  ^ 
and  when  the  long  column  of  Israel's  thou 
sands  stretched  across  the  desert,  and  wound 
around  the  base  of  Mount  Hor,  and  pitched 
their  tents  in  its  mighty  shadow,  his  w^ork 
was  done  and  his  career  ended.  Said  God 
to  Moses,  "  Aaron  shall  be  gathered  unto  his 
people,  for  he  shall  not  enter  into  the  land 
which  I  have  given  unto  the  children  of  Is- 
rael, because  ye  rebelled  against  my  word  at 
the  waters  of  Meribah.  Take  Aaron  and 
Eleazar  his  son,  and  bring  them  ip  unto 
Mount  Hor  and  strip  Aaron  of  his  garments, 
and  put  them  upon  Eleazar  his  son;  and 
Aaron  shall  be  gathered  unto  his  people  and 
shall  die  there.  And  Moses  did  as  the  Lord 
commanded :  and  they  went  up  into  Mount 
Hor  in  the  sight  of  all  the  congregation." 
Whether  the  solemn  event  about  to  happen 
to  Aaron  was  made  known  to  the  people, 
and  they  took  a  sad  farewell  of  him  as  they 


62  SACRED     MOUNTAINS. 

did  afterwards  of  Moses  when  he  went  up 
Nebo,  we  cannot  tell.  But  from  the  brief 
account  left  us,  it  is  probable  that  the  se- 
cret of  his  death  was  not  divulged  to  the 
congregation;  and  when  he  and  his  son,  and 
Moses  together,  left  the  camp  and  began  to 
ascend  the  solitary  and  barren  mountain, — ri- 
sing out  of  the  midst  of  the  desert, — that  the 
ten  thousand  eyes  that  strained  after,  sought 
in  vain  to  pierce  the  mystery  that  surround- 
ed them.  Perhaps  they  expected  another 
exhibition  of  God  there  similar  to  the  one  on 
Sinai.  Its  solitary  position — its  command- 
ing top  made  it  a  fit  place  for  such  a  scene, 
and  as  they  saw  those  three  forms  climb 
the  rugged  rocks  and  precipitous  sides,  and 
finally  stand  on  the  bold  and  barren  summit, 
they  may  have  looked  for  the  descent  of  that 
wondrous  cloud  which  filled  them  with  such 
terror  on  Sinai.  God  ivas  about  to  speak, 
but  to  Moses,  and  Aaron,  and  Eleazar  alone. 
The  two  brothers  stood  on  that  high  eleva- 
tion together,  and  gazed  for  a  moment  on  the/ 


MOUNTHOR.  33 

scene  below.  There  were  the  countless  tents 
of  Israel  sprinkled  over  the  plain,  never  more 
to  be  entered  by  Aaron.  Farther  off  arose 
the  city  of  Edom,  and  still  farther  away  like 
a  mirror  in  the  landscape,  glittered  the  Dead 
Sea,  whose  dark  waters  slumbered  above 
Sodom  and  Gomorrah.  Behind  them  rose 
Mount  Seir,  and  away  to  the  mouth  of  the 
Jordan,  stretched  the  valley  of  El  Ghor.  All 
was  sad,  mournful,  and  silent.  How  long  the 
brothers  stood  and  talked  together,  we  cannot 
lell.  Their  embraces  and  repeated  farewells 
were  not  seen  except  by  Eleazar,  and  the  high 
priest's  prayers  were  unheard  by  those  who 
so  often  had  invcked  his  intercessions  at  the 
altar  of  sacrifice.  Aaron's  last  prayer!  the 
brother  and  son  who  heard  it,  felt  that  the 
High  Priest  had  found  a  Mediator,  before 
whom  a  broken  heart  and  contrite  spirit  were 
the  only  sacrifice  demanded.  He  had  once 
stayed  up  Moses'  arm  in  the  fight,  by  his 
prayers  to  the  God  of  battle,  and  now  they 
sustained  each   other  in  this  last  greatest 


64  SACRED     MOUNTAINS. 

trial.  Methinks,  that  Aaron  knelt  there,  on 
the  top  of  the  barren  mountain, •and  with 
his  hand  on  the  head  of  his  ^on,  commended 
him  to  the  God  of  Israel,  with  tears  and  in- 
tercessions such  only  as  a  parent  can  use. 
His  last  instructions  had  more  of  heaven 
than  earth  in  them,  and  his  last  farewell  was 
worthy  of  the  High  Priest  of  Israel.  Moses, 
as  he  stripped  him  of  his  sacerdotal  robes, 
doubtless  spoke  of  their  speedy  meeting  in 
that  Canaan,  of  which  the  one  they  sought 
was  but  the  type.  He  knew  that  his  own 
Hour  was  nigh,  and  that  his  brother's  death 
was  but  the  prelude  to  his  own.  It  w^s  a 
sad  task  given  him  to  take  the  sacred  vesture 
from  his  brother ;  and,  as  it  were,  clothe  him 
while  in  full  health,  with  his  funeral  shroud. 
And  the  son,  the  pure-minded,  noble,  and  af- 
fectionate son,  with  what  tears  and  choking 
grief  did  he  see  his  father  despoiled  of  his 
honors,  and  himself  clad  in  his  priestly  gar- 
ments! It  was  a  heavy  trial  to  all — to 
brother,   father,   and   son,   and   a   mournful 


MOUNT     HOR.       .  65 

scene  there  on  the  top  of  the  mountain.  But 
the  last  embrace  was  at  length  given  and 
taken — the  last  prayer  breathed  and  the  High 
Priest  of  Israel  laid  down  to  die.  Glorious 
w^as  his  departure  from  the  top  of  that  lordly 
mountain — triumphant  his  last  words  as  his 
eyes  closed  on  his  son,  and  opened  again  in 
heaven./ 

When  the  people  of  Israel  saw  Moses  and 
Eleazar  return  alone,  and  were  told  that 
Aaron  was  dead,  they  mourned  thirty  days. 

Mount  Hor  is  a  lonely  peak,  seen  at  a 
great  distance  from  the  desert,  and  consti- 
tutes one  of  the  landmarks  by  which  the 
Arab  guides  his  way.  On  its  summit  is  a 
white  building  called  the  tomb  of  Aaron ; 
Mahometans  and  Christians  reverence  it 
alike,  and  the  sepulchre  of  the  High  Priest 
is  safe  from  the  ravages  even  of  the  Arab  of 
the  desert.  A  landmark  in  the  bleak  sce- 
nery, within  sight  of  the  desolate  city  of 
Edom  and  its  pillared  rocks,  overlooking  the 
Dead  Sea,  it  is  a  fit  place  for  Ithe  tomb  of 


66  SACRED     MOUNTAINS. 

Aaron,  and  stands  consecrated  forever.  An 
imperishable  testimonial  of  the  truth  of  the 
Bible — a  stern  witness  of  the  fulfilment  of 
prophecy — a  cursed  city  and  a  cursed  moun- 
tain on  either  side — it  arrests  the  traveller's 
eye  from  afar,  and  fills  him  with  awe  and 
fear  as  it  silently  and  perpetually  speaks  of 
God.  / 


/  Perhaps  there  is  no  mountain  on  our 
planet,  which  from  its  associations  has  fur- 
nished more  cheering  promises  to  man  than 
Mount  Pisgah.  Around  its  summit  cluster 
some  of  the  most  glorious  truths  of  our  re- 
ligion, and  a  light  falls  there  like  the  radi- 
ance of  heaven  itself  But  of  these  I  do  not 
design  to  speak.  Others  have  exhibited 
these  truths  better  than  I  could ;  and  follow- 
ing out  my  original  plan,  I  wish  merely  to 
describe  the  scenes  connected  with  this 
mountain,  rather  than  the  truths  they  de- 
velop. / 

Moses,  like  Aaron,  was   denied  entrance 
into  the  land  of  Canaan.     Though  he  had 


68  SACRED     MOUNTAINS. 

braved  the  wrath  of  Pharaoh,  renounced  his 
worldly  expectations,  perilled  his  life,  and  led 
on  the  hosts  of  Israel  for  forty  years  through 
the  wilderness,  for  the  sole  purpose  of  reaching 
the  promised  land,  his  eyes  were  only  to  be 
once  gladdened  by  the  sight.  He  had  escaped 
the  WTath  of  his  pursuers — the  pestilence 
that  swept  so  many  thousands  to  death — the 
bite  of  the  flaming  serpents  that  strewed  the 
camp  with  so  many  thousands  more — even 
the  decay  of  the  body  itself — to  die  at  last 
by  special  decree,  in  sight  of  the  very  object 
of  all  his  toils — the  anticipated  rest  from  all 
his  labors.  The  sea  had  been  passed — tht 
murmurs  of  the  people  borne  with — the  long 
weary  desert  travelled  over — forty  years  of 
the  prime  of  life  exhausted,  to  secure  one 
single  object,  and  then  he  died  with  that  ob- 
ject unreached,  though  spread  out  in  all  its 
tempting  loveliness  before  him.  ^ 

Angry  when  the  people  clamored  for 
water — daring  to  carry  out  the  commands 
of  the  Lord  in  a  petulant  spirit— assembling 


MOUNTPISGAH.  69 

the  people  hastily,  without  sanctifying  them 
for  the  great  miracle  about  to  be  performed,  a 
addressing  them  roughly,  and  claiming  the^^^ 
credit  of  the  miracle,  though  perhaps  unin- 
tentionally, saying,  "  must  ice  bring  water 
out  of  the  rock  ?"  and  smiting,  in  his  vexa- 
tion, the  rock  twice,  instead  of  once,  as  he 
had  been  commanded,  and  thereby  injuring 
the  type, — Moses  had  so  displeased  the  Lord 
that  he  denied  him  entrance  into  Canaan.  / 

In  whatever  relations  we  behold  Moses, 
with  the  above  single  exception,  he  is  ever 
the  same  sublime  and  majestic  character. 
Noble  by  nature,  great  by  his  mission,  and 
greater  still  by  the  manner  in  which  he  ac- 
complished it,  he  ever  maintains  his  ascen- 
dency over  our  feelings.  We  see  the  fiery 
promptings  of  the  heart  that  could  not  brook 
oppression,  in  the  bloody  vengeance  he  took 
on  the  Egyptian  who  would  trample  on  his 
brother.  Preferring  the  desert  with  freedom 
to  the  court  of  Pharaoh  in  sight  of  injustice, 
he  led  the  life  of  a  fugitive.     Called  by  a 


70  SACRED     MOUNTAINS. 

voice  from  heaven  to  go  back  to  deliver  his 
people,  he  again  trod  the  courts  of  the  King 
of  Egypt.  / 

But  not  in  the  presence  of  Pharaoh  when 
he  withstood  the  monarch  to  his  face,  and 
brought  down  the  thunders  of  heaven  on  his 
throne — not  on  the  beach  of  the  sea,  with 
one  arm  upraised  towards  heaven,  and  the 
jther  stretched  out  over  the  water,  while  the 
waves  that  went  surging  by  stopped  and 
crouched  at  his  feet — ^not  in  the  midst  of  the 
raining  manna — not  in  the  lifting  of  the 
brazen  symbol  in  the  midst  of  the  flying  ser- 
pents, while  the  moan  of  suffering  and  the 
cries  of  the  dying  struggled  up  from  the 
crowded  encampment — not  when,  between 
the  mountains,  his  stately  form  shone  in  the 
light  of  the  blazing  fiery  pillar,  while  the 
tread  of  the  mighty  multitude  shook  the 
earth  behind  him — nor  even  when  he  stood 
on  shaking  Sinai,  his  guard  the  thunder  and 
his  vesture  the  lightning,  and  talked  with 
the  Eternal  as  friend  talketh  with  friend, — 


MOUNTPISGAH.  71 

not  in  all  these  awful  relations  does  he  ap- 
pear to  me  so  majestic  and  attractive  as  in 
this  last  event  of  his  life.  / 

Behold  the  white  tents  of  Israel  scattered 
over  the  plain  and  swelling  knolls  at  the  foot 
of  Mount  Nebo.  It  is  a  balmy,  glorious  day 
The  sun  is  sailing  over  the  encampment 
while  the  blue  sky  bends  like  God  in  love 
over  all  things.  Here  and  there  a  fleecy 
cloud  is  hovering  over  the  top  of  Pisgah,  as 
if  conscious  of  the  mysterious  scene  about  to 
transpire  there.  The  trees  stand  green  and 
fresh  in  the  sunlight ;  the  lowing  of  cattle 
rises  through  the  still  atmosphere,  and  na- 
ture is  lovely  and  tranquil,  as  if  no  sounds 
of  grief  were  to  disturb  her  repose.  / 

Amid  this  beauty  and  quietness,  Moses  as- 
sembled the  children  of  Israel  for  the  last 
time,  to  take  his  farewell  look,  and  leave  his 
farewell  blessing.  He  cast  his  eye  over  the 
leaders  beside  him,  and  over  the  host,  while 
a  thousand  contending  emotions  struggled  for 
the  mastery  in  his  bosom.    The  past  with  its 


72  SACRED     MOIN  TAINS. 

toils  and  suffering  rose  up  before  him,  and 
how  could  he  part  with  his  children, — mur- 
muring and  ungrateful  though  they  had  been, 
whom  he  had  borne  on  his  brave  heart  for 
more  than  forty  years'?  Self-collected  and 
calm  he  stood  before  them  and  gave  them 
his  last  blessing.  He  made  no  complaints — 
never  spoke  of  his  hardships  in  their  behalf; 
made  no  allusion  to  his  anguish  in  leaving 
them  on  the  very  verge  of  Canaan,  the  ob- 
ject for  which  he  had  toiled  so  long.  He 
did  not  even  refer  to  his  death.  In  the  mag- 
nanimity of  his  great  heart,  forgetful  of  him- 
self, or  else  not  daring  to  trust  his  feelings  in 
an  allusion  to  his  fate,  he  closed  his  sublim-e 
address  in  the  following  touching  language : 
''  The  eternal  God  is  thy  refuge,  and  under- 
neath are  the  everlasting  arms ;  and  he  shall 
thrust  out  the  enemy  before  thee:  Israel 
then  shall  dwell  in  safety  alone.  Happy  art 
thou,  O  Israel:  who  is  like  unto  thee,  oh 
people  saved  by  the  Lord,  the  shield  of  thy 
help,  and  who  is  the  sword  of  thy  excel-/ 


MOUNT      PISGAH.  73 

iency !"  Noble  language — noble  heart.  Car- 
ried away  in  the  contemplation  of  his  chil- 
dren's happiness,  he  burst  forth  into  excla- 
mations of  joy  in  the  moment  of  his  deepest 
distress.  But  did  not  that  manly  voice  falter 
and  that  stern  lip  quiver  as  he  advanced  to  bid 
them  his  last  adieu  1  For  a  moment  methmks 
the  rising  emotions  checked  his  utterance. 
They  had  been  the  companions  of  his  toil — • 
the  objects  of  his  deepest  solicitude.  A 
common  suffering,  a  common  fate,  had  bound 
them  to  him  by  a  thousand  ties.  He  looked 
back  on  the  desert :  it  was  past.  He  looked 
forward  on  Canaan :  it  was  near.  He  turned 
to  the  people,  and  they  were  weeping.  He 
cast  his  eye  up  Nebo,  and  he  knew  he  must 
die.  Altiiough  no  complaint  escaped  his 
lips — no  regret  fell  from  his  tongue,  a  deeper 
paleness  was  on  his  cheek,  and  a  sternei 
strife  in  his  heart  than  he  had  ever  felt  be- 
fore. Though  outwardly  calm,  his  stern  na- 
ture shoolr  for  a  moment  like  a  cedar  in  a 

tempest,  and  then   the   struggle  was   over. 

7 


74  SACRED     MOUNTAINS. 

His  farewell  was  echoed  in  inelancholy  tones 
from  lip  to  lip  through  the  vast  host,  as  he 
turned  to  ascend  the  mountain.  As  he  ad- 
vanced from  rock  to  rock,  the  sobbing  of  the 
multitude  that  followed  after,  tore  his  heart- 
strings like  the  suffering  cry  of  a  child  its  pa- 
rent's, and  it  was  long  before  he  da^e  trust 
himself  to  turn  and  look  below.  But  at  length 
he  paused  on  a  liigh  rock  and  gazed  a  mo- 
ment on  the  scene  at  his  feet.  There  were 
the  white  tents  of  Jacob  glittering  in  the  sun- 
light, and  there  the  dark  mass  of  Israel's 
host  as  they  stooc  and  watched  the  form  of 
their  departing  leader.  Those  tents  had  be- 
come familiar  to  him  as  household  scenes, 
and  as  he  gazed  on  them  now,  far,  far  be- 
neath him,  and  saw  the  cloud  overshadow- 
ing the  mysterious  ark,  a  sigh  of  unutterable 
sadness  escaped  him.  He  thought  of  the 
bones  of  Joseph  he  had  carried  for  forty 
years,  that  were  to  rest  with  liis  descen- 
dants, while  he  was  to  be  left  alone  amia 
the  mountains.     Agahi  he  turned  to  the  as- 


MOUNT     PISGAH.  75 

cent,  and  soon  a  rock  shut  him  from  view,  ^ 
and  he  passed  on  alone  to  the  summit.  / 

There  God  miraculously  spread  before 
him  all  the  land  of  Canaan.  He  stood  a 
speck  on  the  high  crag,  and  gazed  on  the 
lovely  scene.  Jordan  went  sweeping  by  in 
the  glad  sunlight.  Palm  trees  shook  their 
green  tops  in  the  summer  wind,  and  plains 
and  cities  and  vineyards  spread  away  in 
endless  beauty  before  him.  But  ah,  me- 
thinks  he  saw  more  than  the  landscape  smi- 
ling beneath  the  eastern  sky.  The  history  of 
the  future  was  unrolled  before  him.  He  saw 
the  manger  of  Bethlehem,  and  also  the  star 
that  hung  over  it.  There  lay  glittering  in 
the  landscape  the  sea  of  Galilee^  but  he  saw 
more  than  the  water ;  he  beheld  the  myste- 
rious form  walking  there  in  the  midst  of  the 
midnight  storm.  He  saw  Jerusa'.^m  in  its 
glory  and  downfall.  He  heard  the  birth- 
song  of  the  angels,  and  shout  of  the  shep- 
herds,— and  last  of  all,  a  mysterious  mount 
rose  before  him,  wrapped  in  storm  and  cloud. 


7b  SACRED     MOUNTAINS. 

through  whose  gloomy  foldings  gleamed  a 
cross.  The  clouds  rolled  away,  and  lo,  the 
Strength  of  Israel,  the  Refuge  of  Judah,  hung 
in  death.  Again  the  vision  changed — the 
sepulchre  was  open,  and  like  an  ascending 
glory  that  form  rose  to  heaven.  / 

The  scene  vanished  from  his  sight,  and 
with  the  rock  for  his  couch  and  the  blue  sky 
for  his  covering,  he  laid  down  to  die.  Oh, 
who  can  tell  what  the  mighty  lawgiver  felt, 
left  in  that  dreadful  hour  alone  !  The  mys- 
tery of  mysteries  was  to  be  passed.  No 
friend  was  beside  his  couch  to  soothe  him, 
no  voice  to  encourage  him  in  that  last,  dark- 
est of  all  human  struggles.  No  one  was 
with  him  but  God,  and  though  with  one 
hand  he  smote  him,  with  the  other  he  held 
his  dying  head.  How  long  was  he  dying? 
God  alon  can  answer.  What  words  did 
his  quivering  lips  last  utter?  God  alone 
knows.  Was  his  last  prayer  for  Israel  7 — 
his  last  words  of  the  Crucified  ?  From  that 
lonely  rock  did  a  shout  go  up—"  Oh  Death, 


MOUNT     PI  SG  AH.  77 

where  is  thy  sting  7  Oh  Grave,  where  is 
thy  victory?"  Of  that  last  scene  and  its 
changes  we  know  nothing,  but  when  it  was 
over,  Moses  lay  a  corpse  on  the  mountain 
top.  And  God  buried  him.  There  he  slept 
alone — the  mountain  cloud  which  night 
hung  round  him  w^as  his  only  shroud,  and 
the  thunder  of  the  passing  storm  his  only 
dirge.  There  he  slept  while  centuries  rolled 
by,  his  grave  unknown  and  unvisited,  until 
at  length  he  is  seen  standing  on  Mount  Ta- 
bor, wath  Christ,  in  the  Transfiguration. 
Over  Jordan  at  last — in  Canaan  at  last,  / 

I  will  not  speak  here  of  the  instruction 
this  scene  affords :  but  from  the  very  summit 
of  his  sorrows,  where  he  had  gone  to  die, 
Moses  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  caught  a 
view  of  Canaan.  He  did  not  know  as  he 
went  over  the  rocks,  torn  and  weary,  how 
lovely  the  prospect  was  from  the  top.  In 
this  world  it'  frequently  happens  that  when 
man  has  reached  the  place  of  anguish,  God 
folds  away  the  mist  from  before  his  eyes, 

7# 


78      •  SACRED      FOUNTAINS. 

and  the  very  spot  he  selected  as  the  recepta- 
cle of  his  tears  becomes  the  place  of  his 
highest  rapture. 

For  thirty  days  did  the  Israelites  mourn 
at  the  base  of  that  mountain  over  their  de- 
parted leader,  and  then  mournfully  struck 
their  tents  and  moved  away.  Consecrated 
by  the  death  of  Moses — receiving  his  last 
prayer  and  last  sigh,  Mount  Pisgah  stood 
the  Jifth  sacred  mountain  on  the  earth.  | 


/  Mount  Horeb  not  being  so  isolated  as 
A^rarat  or  Sinai,  does  not  occupy  so  defi- 
nite a  place  in  nature  or  history  as  they. 
One  of  the  group  that  surrounds  Sinai,  it 
presents  the  same  barren  and  desolate  ap- 
pearance, and  stands  amid  the  same  bleak 
and  forbidding  scenery.  These  solemn  sum- 
mits rise  together  in  the  same  heavens,  and 
the  silent  language  they  speak  has  the  same 
meaning.  Still,  Horeb  has  less  distinguish- 
ing characteristics  than  Sinai,  and  the  latter 
overshadows  it  as  much  in  interest  as  it 
does  in  nature.  The  Mount  of  Terror  is 
monarch  there  in  the  desert,  and  all  other 
summits  are  but  his  body  guard.     They  wit- 


mmm 


80  SACRED     MOUNTAINS. 

nessed  his  grand  coronation  when  the  law 
was  given,  and  shook  to  the  thunders  that 
honored  the  ceremony.  \ 

Mount  Horeb  has  not  been  consecrated 
once,  but  thrice,  and  hence  has  a  threefold 
claim  for  a  place  amid  the  immortal  list  of 
Sacred  Mountains.  Moses  learned  his  first 
lessons  around  its  base,  and  amid  its  soli- 
tudes formed  the  thoughtful,  stern,  and  de- 
cided character  which  rendered  him  fit  to  be 
the  leader  of  Israel.  When  in  his  impetuous 
youth  he  slew  the  Egyptian  that  would 
trample  on  his  countryman,  he  came  thither 
to  escape  the  penalty  of  the  deed.  After 
the  first  gust  of  indignation  had  swept  by, 
and  he  saw  the  lifeless  corpse  at  his  feet, 
alarm  took  the  place  of  passion,  and  hastily 
covering  the  dead  man  in  the  sand,  he  fled 
to  the  desert.  Month  after  month  he  wan- 
dered about  Horeb,  thinking  of  Egypt  and 
the  royal  court  he  dared  not  enter.  Away 
from  the  temptations  of  the  palace,  and  be- 
yond  the  reach  of  the  conflicting   motives 


MOUNTHOREB.  81 

that  might  sway  him  there,  he  trod  the 
desert  a  free  man.  With  nought  but  Nature 
and  God  to  teach  him,  his  character  must  be 
simple  and  manly,  and  his  principles  upright 
and  pure.  Amid  the  grand  and  striking  fea- 
tures of  mountain  scenery,  he  could  not  but 
learn  to  hate  tyranny  and  love  freedom  still 
more,  and  when,  at  lefi^th,  his  character 
was  settled  on  a  broad  and  permanent  basis, 
God  sent  him  back  to  Egypt  to  deliver  his 
people.  ^ 

Wandering  one  morning  along  the  slopes 
of  Horeb,  he  saw  before  him  a  solitary  bush 
blazing  from  top  to  bottom,  but  still  uncon- 
sumed.  Every  branch  was  a  fiery  branch 
and  every  leaf  a  leaf  of  fire  that  glowed  un- 
wasted  in  the  still  flame.  As  he  stood 
amazed  and  awe-struck  at  the  sight,  a  voice 
whose  tones  were  yet  to  be  familiar  to  his 
ear  exclaimed,  "  Take  thy  shoes  from  off  thy 
feet,  for  the  place  on  which  thou  standest  is 
Holy  Ground."  Here  Moses  received  his 
first  commission,  and  here  was  God's  first 


82  SACRED     MOUNTAINS. 

outward  demonstration  to  him  in  behalf  of 
his  people.  / 

In  the  exciting  scenes  through  which  he 
afterwards  passed  in  Egypt,  he  may  have 
entirely  forgotten  Horeb.  But  after  the 
plagues,  and  death,  and  flight,  and  pursuit^ 
and  Red  Sea  passage,  and  overthrow  of  his 
enemies,  had  all  been  left  behind,  and  the 
host  of  Israel  entered  the  desert,  the  familiar 
scenery  he  began  to  approach  must  have 
waked  up  strange  associations  in  his  heart. 
At  length  the  well-remembered  form  of 
Horeb,  where  he  had  wandered  lonely  and 
solitary,  self-exiled  from  his  home,  rose  be- 
fore him.  A  gloomy  fugitive  he  first  saw 
that  desolate  mountain  in  the  distance ; — a 
leader  of  a  mighty  people,  and  the  chosen  of 
God,  he  pitched  his  tent  the  second  time  at 
its  base.  Doubtless  his  first  inverview  with 
the  Deity  here,  caused  him  to  expect  some 
Other  revelations  now  that  the  commission 
he  had  given  him  had  been  fulfilled.  How 
much  his  early  experience  had  to  do  with 


MOUNTHOREl?.  S3 

his  encamping  on  this  spot  with  the  host  of 
Israel  it  is  impc  ssible  to  tell ;  but  that  he 
should  expect  that  God  who  had  first  sent 
him  forth  should  here  give  him  further  in- 
structions was  most  natural.  His  expecta- 
tions were  not  disappointed,  and  Sinai  and 
Horeb  together  became  the  scene  of  the 
most  wondrous  events  of  human  history. 
The  shadow  of  Sinai  falls  over  Horeb,  and 
thty  stand  together  in  immortal  brotherhood. 
They  cannot  well  be  separated  in  contem- 
plating the  revelations  of  God  to  his  people, 
on  their  journey  from  Egypt  to  Canaan,  and 
hence  I  have  not  attempted  it.  /  ♦ 

Still,  there  are  other  scenes  connected 
with  Horeb,  in  which  Sinai  is  not  mention-? 
ed.  Twice  had  it  been  honored  b^  the  presr 
ence  of  Deity,  which  had  so  consecrated  it 
that  we  find  the  angel  of  the  Lojd  after- 
wards calling  it  '•^the  Mount  of  GodP  It 
was  however  destined  for  a  third  baptism. 
When  Elijah,  hunted  by  Jezebel,  fled  for  his 
life,  he  wandered  across  th^  desert  to  this 


84  SACRED     MOUNTilNS. 

mountain.  His  prayers  iiad  brought  rain 
upon  the  parched  and  desolate  earth,  but  his 
sword  had  also  drank  the  blood  of  the 
prophets  of  Baal,  and  Jezebel  had  sent  him 
word  that  she  would  do  to  him  as  he  had 
done  to  her  prophets ;  *  and  so  he  fled  into 
the  wilderness  and  sat  down  under  a  juniper 
tree  and  prayed  for  death.  Weary  and  dis- 
couraged, the  hunted  fugitive  laid  down  and 
slept  on  the  barren  heath,  when  the  angel  of 
the  Lord  touched  him  and  bade  him  arise 
and  go  to  Mount  Horeb..  Elijah  started  for 
the  desert,  and  after  travelling  for  more  than 
a  month,  he  at  length,  worn  and  exhausted, 
came  to  the  mountain,  and  took  up  his  soli- 
tary lodgings  in  a  cave.  How  many  deso- 
late days  and  lonely  nights  he  passed  there 
we  know  not,  but  broken  in  spirit,  nay,  his 
faith  itself  weak  and  well  nigh  gone,  his 
hours  whether  few  or  many  were  full  of  de- 
spondency and  sorrow.  Both  the  blessings 
and  judgments  he  had  brought  on  Israel, 
attended,  though  they  had  been,  with  mira\ 


MOUNT     H  ORE  B.  85 

cles,  had  failed  to  turn  the  people  from  their 
wickedness.  That  Elijah  was  still  in  the 
despairing  mood  which  caused  him  to  pray 
under  the  juniper  tree  for  death  is  evident 
both  from  the  interrogation  of  the  Deity  and 
the  reply  of  the  prophet.  "  The  Lord  said 
unto  him,  What  doest  thou  here,  Elijah  7 
And  he  said,  I  have  been  very  jealous  for 
the  Lord  God  of  Hosts,  for  the  children  of 
Israel  have  forsaken  thy  covenants,  thrown 
down  thy  altars,  and  slain  thy  prophets  with 
the  sword ;  and  I,  even  I  only  am  left,  and 
they  seek  my  life.  And  he  said,  Go  forth 
and  stand  upon  the  mount."  Jehovah  was 
about  to  reveal  himself,  and  Elijah  evidently 
expected  some  exhibition  of  divine  goodness 
or  power,  though  he  was  not  prepared  for 
the  scene  which  was  about  to  transpire. 
Before  he  reached  the  entrance  of  his  cave 
he  heard  a  roar  louder  than  the  sea,  that  ar- 
rested his  footsteps  and  sent  the  blood  back 
to  his  heart.  The  next  moment  there  came 
a  blast  of  wind,  as  if  the  last  chain  that 


86  SACRED     MOUNTAINS. 

bound  it  had  suddenly  been  thrown  oif  and 
it  had  burst  forth  in  all  its  unrestrained  and 
limitless  energy.  In  the  twinkling  of  an  eye 
the  sun  w^as  blotted  out  by  the  cloud  of  dust, 
and  the  fragments  that  filled  the  air  as  it 
whirled  them  in  fierce  eddies  onward.  It 
shrieked  and  howled  around  the  mouth  of 
the  cave,  while  the  fierce  hissing  sound  of 
its  steady  pressure  against  the  heart  of  the 
mountain  was  more  terrible  than  its  ocean- 
like roar.  Before  its  fury  and  strength  rocks 
were  loosened  from  their  beds  and  hurled 
through  the  gloom — the  earth  rent  where  it 
passed,  and  so  boundless  seemed  its  strength 
that  the  steady  mountain  threatened  to  lift 
from  its  base  and  be  carried  away.  Amid 
this  deafening  uproar  and  confusion  and 
darkness  and  terror,  the  stunned  and  awe- 
struck Elijah  expected  to  see  the  form  of 
Jehovah  moving;  but  that  resistless  blast, 
strewing  the  sides  of  Horeb  with  wreck  and 
chaos  was  not  God  in  motion  :  \ 


MOUNT     HOREB.  87 

"  'Twas  but  the  whirlwind  of  his  hreath^ 
Announcing  danger,  wreck,  and  death." 

The 'hurricane  passed  by,  and  that  wild 
strife  of  the  elements  ceased  ;  but  before  the 
darkened  heavens  could  clear  themselves 
the  prophet  heard  a  rumbling  sound  in  the 
bowels  of  the  mountain,  and  the  next  mo- 
ment an  earthquake  was  on  the  march. 
Stern  Horeb  rocked  to  and  fro  like  a  vessel 
in  a  storm,  and  its  bosom  parted  with  the 
sound  of  thunder  before  the  convulsive 
throbs  that  seemed  rending  the  very  heart 
of  nature.  Fathomless  abysses  opened  on 
every  side,  and  huge  precipices,  toppling 
over  the  chasms  at  their  base,  went  thun- 
dering through  the  darkness.  The  fallen 
prophet  lay  on  the  floor  of  his  cavern  and 
listened  to  the  grinding,  crushing  sound 
around  and  beneath  him,  and  the  steady 
shocks  more  terrible  than  all  that  ever  and 
anon  shook  the  heights,  thinking  that  Jeho- 
vah at  last  stood  before  him.  Surely  it  was 
his  mighty  hand  that  laid  on  that  trembling, 


DO  SACRED     MOUNTAINS. 

tottering  mountain,  and  his  strong  arm  that 
rocked  it  so  wildly  on  its  base.  No,  "  God 
was  not  in  the  earthquake." 

"  'Twas  but  the  thundering  of  his  car, 
The  trampling  of  his  steeds  from  far."  \ 

The  commotion  ceased,  and  Nature  stood 
*^  and  calmed  her  ruffled  frame  :'^  but  in  the 
deep,  ominous  silence  that  followed,  there 
seemed  a  foreshadowing  of  some  new  terror, 
and  lo,  the  heavens  were  suddenly  on  fire, 
and  a  sheet  of  flame  fell  like  falling  lightning 
from  the  sky.  Its  lurid  light  pierced  to  the 
depths  of  Elijah's  cavern  till  it  glowed  like 
an  oven,  and  from  base  to  summit  of  Mount 
Horeb  there  went  up  a  vast  cloud  of  smoke, 
fast  and  furious,  while  the  entire  sides 
flowed  with  torrents  of  fire.  The  mountain 
glowed  with  a  red  heat,  and  stood  like  a 
huge  burning  furnace  under  a  burning  heav- 
en, and  groaned  on  its  ancient  seat  as  if 
in  torture.  But  God  was  not  in  the  fiery 
storm.  \ 

♦*  'Twas  but  the  lightning  of  his  eye" 


MOUNTHOREB.  89 

that  had  kindled  that  mountain  into  a  blaze, 
and  filled  the  air  with  flame. 

But  this  too  passed  by,  and  what  new 
scene  of  terror  could  rise  worthy  to  herald 
the  footsteps  of  God — what  greater  outward 
grandeur  could  surround  his  presence  7  The 
astonished  prophet  still  lay  upon  his  face 
wrapped  in  wonder,  and  filled  with  fear  at 
these  exhibitions  of  Almighty  power,  wait- 
ing for  the  next  scene  in  this  great  drama, 
when  suddenly  through  the  deep  quiet,  and 
breathless  hush  that  had  succeeded  the 
earthquake  and  the  storm,  there  arose  "  a 
still  small  voice,"  the  like  of  which  had 
never  met  his  ear  before.  It  was  "  small 
and  still,"  but  it  thrilled  the  prophet's  frame 
with  electric  power,  and  rose  so  sweet  and 
clear, 

"  That  all  in  heaven  and  earth  might  hear ; 
It  spoke  of  peace — it  spoke  of  love, 
It  spoke  as  angels  speak  above."/ 

And  God  was  in  the  voice.     The  prophet 

knew   that  He   was  *  nigh,   and,   rising  up, 

8# 


90  SACRED     MCUNTAINS. 

wrapped  his  mantle  about  his  face,  and 
went  to  the  mouth  of  the  cave,  and  rever- 
ently stood  and  listened.  Oh,  who  can  tell 
the  depth  and  sweetness  of  the  tones  of  that 
voice  which  the  Lord  of  love  deemed  wor- 
thy to  announce  his  coming.  A  ransomed 
spirit's  harp — an  angel's  lute — a  seraph's 
song,  could  not  have  moved  the  prophet  so. 
But  while  his  whole  being,  soul  and  body, 
trembled  to  its  music,  a  sterner  voice  met 
his  ear,  saying,  "  What  doest  thou  here,  Eli- 
jah?" The  prophet  again  poured  the  tale 
of  his  woes  and  of  Israel's  sin  into  the  Infi- 
nite bosom.  His  wrongs  were  promised  re- 
dress, and  Israel  deliverance ;  and  the  hunted 
exile  went  boldly  back  to  his  people,  and 
Iloreb  again  stood  silent  and  alone  in  the 
desert.  / 


M  0  U  N"r^Q  AR  M  E  L 


/  Mount  Carmel  stands  by  the  sea,  lifting 
its  head  two  thousand  feet  above  the  water, 
looking  off  on  Sharon  towards  the  south, 
while  inland  Tabor  shows  dim  through  the 
hazy  atmosphere.  Its  shape  is  that  of  a  flat- 
tened cone,  and  it  is  one  of  the  most  pictur- 
esque objects  in  that  land  of  glorious  asso- 
ciations. Tw^o  scenes,  totally  different,  yet 
thrilling  in  the  extreme,  have  transpired  on 
its  summit.  Elijah  and  Mount  Carmel  go 
together,  and  no  time  nor  change  can  sepa- 
rate them  in  human  history.  / 

Under  the  reign  of  the  despot  Ahab,  Is- 
rael had  forsaken  the  commandments  of  God 
and  his  worship,  and  gone  over  to  idolatry 


92  SACRED     MOUNTAINS. 

till  vice  and  cruelty  covered  the  land.  To 
bring  the  nation  to  reflection  God  declared 
through  Elijah  that  no  rain  should  fall  on 
the  earth  for  years ;  and  lo,  the  heavens 
were  shut  up  and  became  like  brass  over 
the  thirsty  fields.  Every  thing  withered  up 
— the  corr  shrivelled  and  died — the  grass 
shrunk  away  and  turned  red  in  the  fierce 
heat — the  very  trees  drooped  and  died,  and 
the  once  fat  herds,  reduced  to  skeletons, 
swarmed  over  the  fields  in  search  of  food 
and  water.  The  harvest  remained  ungath- 
ered,  and  the  farmer  looked  with  anxious, 
and  then  despairing  heart  on  his  barren 
fields  and  empty  granaiies.  Men  husbanded 
the  little  grain  that  was  left,  and  all  over 
Israel,  food  was  measured  out  by  piecemeal, 
for  want  began  to  stare  them  in  face.  The 
first  year  men  were  impoverished,  the  sec- 
ond ruined  in  their  fortunes,  but  the  third 
brought  famine  and  all  its  horrors.  Chil- 
dren pleading  for  bread  died  in  their  parents' 
arms — the  old  yielded  up  the  ghost  with  a 


MOUNT     CARMEL.  93 

groan,  and  the  strong-limbed,  fell  bloated,  on 
their  own  thresholds,  and  woe,  and  wretch- 
edness, were  on  every  side.  At  first,  Ahab 
w^as  angry  with  Elijah,  who  had  predicted 
this  calamity,  and  attempted  to  slay  him  as 
the  cause  of  it ;  but  the  prophet  fled  from 
his  hand.  But,  at  length,  the  haughty  king 
was  frightened  into  apparent  meekness,  and 
then  the  prophet  presented  himself  before 
him.  The  hunted  fugitive  trod  the  courts 
of  the  palace  without  fear,  and  more  like  a 
king  than  their  owner,  and  stood  with  a 
stern  and  haughty  brow  before  the  royal 
despot.  The  king  looked  on  him  a  moment 
in  surprise,  as  he  stood  wrapped  in  his  man- 
tle before  him,  then  said,  "  Art  thou  he  that 
troubleth  Israel  ?"  The  roused  prophet, 
w  hose  heart  had  bled  over  the  suflferings  of 
his  beloved  country,  who  would  gladly  have 
sacrificed  his  life  to  have  saved  it,  could  not 
brook  the  charge  implied  in  this  question. 
Hurling  back  the  accusation  in  the  very 
teeth  of  the  king,  he  said,  "  /  ham  not  trou 


94  SACRED     MOUNTAINS. 

hied  Israel^  hut  thou  and  thy  father's  house^  in 
that  ye  have  forsaken  the  commandments  of 
the  Lord  and  thou  hast  folloiced  Baalim.^^ 
"  ThoUj  proud  monarch,  art  the  enemy  of 
thy  country ;  thou  hast  brought  down  the 
curse  of  heaven ;  on  thy  head  rests  the  guilt 
of  all  this  woe  and  death."  Such  was  the 
language  the  despised,  and  poor,  and  exiled 
prophet  uttered  in  the  ears  of  the  astonished 
Ahab.  Conscience  had  at  length  awoke, 
and  he  dared  not  resent  it,  but  allowed  him- 
self to  be  bearded  on  his  very  throne,  sur- 
rounded by  his  vassals.  Elijah  saw  that  he 
was  partially  humbled  by  fear — and  well  he 
might  be  at  the  spectacle  his  country  pre- 
sented- -and  so  immediately  proposed  a  trial 
of  the  respective  claims  of  the  prophets  of 
the  Lord  and  those  of  Baal :  "  Gather  me," 
said  he,  "  all  Israel  unto  Mount  Carmel,  and 
with  them  four  hundred  and  fifty  of  the 
prophets  of  Baal,  and  four  hundred  more  of 
the  prophets  of  the  groves  who  sit  at  Jeze- 
^bol's  table."    A  strange  proposal  for  a  public 


MOUNT     CARMfiL.  95 

criminal  to  make  to  a  king,  but  there  was 
something  about  him  that  awed  tlie  mon- 
arch, so  that  he  dared  not  refuse  his  consent. 
That  plain-clad  man  in  his  mantle,  who  had 
been  a  by-word  for  children  for  years,  now 
dictated  to  the  king,  who  had  hunted  him 
like  a  common  felon,  the  length  and  breadth 
of  Israel.  His  order  was  obeyed,  and  lo,  all 
Israel  came  flocking  to  Carmel.  Every  road 
was  thronged  with  the  eager  thousands :  on 
foot,  in  carriages,  and  on  horseback  they 
went  streaming  onward,  till  every  highway 
leading  to  the  mountain  was  filled  with  the 
dust  of  hasty  travellers.  In  the  barren  fields 
through  which  they  rode — in  the  wan  and 
haggard  faces  that  stared  on  them  as  they 
passed,  they  saw  evidence  enough  that  Is- 
rael was  troubled,  and  that  it  was  time  the 
cause  was  made  known.  / 

The  prophets  of  Baal,  and  of  the  groves, 
eight  hundred  and  fifty  of  them  in  all,  went 
in  the  pomp  becoming  their  high  station  and 
power,  and  thus  priest  and  people  thronged 


96  SACRED     MOUNTAINS. 

• 

together  to  this  strange  rendezvous.  With- 
out a  friend  to  cheer  him,  unless  perchance 
Obadiah  was  with  him, — on  foot  and  alone, 
Elijah  trod  his  weary  way  to  the  same 
solemn  gathering.  Behold  the  top  of  Car- 
mel  covered  with  the  multitude!  Below 
them  heaves  the  blue  Mediterranean,  whose 
restless  waters  lose  themselves  in  the  dis- 
tance ;  behind  them  is  Palestine  in  its  beau- 
ty, and,  far  away,  the  snow-capt  heights  of 
Lebanon  fringe  the  horizon.  It  is  a  glori- 
ous spectacle  beneath  and  around,  and  the 
solemn  murmur  of  the  sea  perchance  rises 
over  the  hum  of  the  multitude.  But  soon 
one  form  and  one  voice  arrest  every  eye  and 
ear.  Wrapped  in  his  mantle,  Elijah  stands 
on  the  lordly  summit,  and  casting  his  eye 
over  the  landscape,  and  over  the  throng,  at 
length  breaks  forth :  ''  Hoio  long  halt  ye  he- 
tween  two  opinions  7  If  the  Lord  he  Godj 
folloiD  him;  hut  if  Baal  then  follow  him,^^ 
He  paused,  and  gazed  sternly  on  the  thou- 
sands about  him,  but  not  a  voice  broke  the  \ 


MOUNTCARMEL.  97 

ominous  silence.  There  was  an  air  of  au- 
thority about  him  that  awed  even  the  proph- 
ets of  Baal ;  and,  in  the  confidence  of  a  king 
rather  than  with  the  humility  of  a  pro- 
scribed man,  he  made  a  proposal  which 
should  forever  settle  who  was  the  true  God, 
and  which  were  the  false.  "I,"  said  Elijah, 
*'  am  the  only  prophet  of  the  Lord  left,  while 
here  are  four  hundred  and  fifty  prophets  of 
Baal.  But  let  them  now  take  two  bullocks, 
and  cut  one  in  pieces,  and  lay  it  on  wood 
without  fire ;  and  I  will  dress  the  other  bul- 
lock and  lay  it  on  wood,  and  put  no  fire  un- 
der ;  and  they  shall  call  on  their  God,  and  I 
will  call  on  the  Lord,  and  the  God  that  an- 
swereth  by  fire  let  him  be  God."  "  It  is 
well  spoken,"  murmured  the  multitude ;  "  let 
it  be  tried."  Whether  the  prophets  wished 
to  come  to  this  conclusive  issue  or  not,  they 
were  forced  to  it  by  the  people.  Doi  btless, 
they  feared  a  failure,  but  they  hoped  their 
numbers  and  their  power  might  overawe 
Elijah,  and  it  might  be  a  mutual  failure,  and 


98  SACRED     MOUNTAINS. 

then  the  prophet's  doom  was  sealed.  He 
had  called  all  Israel  together,  and  the  people 
were  on  the  stretch  of  expectatioQ,  and  any 
thing  short  of  overwhelming  success  would 
be  disgrace  and  death.  ^^  And  I  am  left 
aloneP  Yes,  thou  art  alone,  Elijah,  and 
around  thee  are  nearly  a  thousand  vindic- 
tive foes,  thirsting  for  thy  blood ;  and  if  thy 
God  answers  not  by  fire  then  wilt  thou  thy- 
self be  offered  up  here  on  the  mountain,  a 
sacrifice  to  human  hate.  True,  thou  stand- 
est  proudly  there,  with  thy  uplifted  arm 
pointing  towards  heaven,  and  thy  prophet's 
mantle  wrapped  about  thee,  and  thy  voice  is 
like  one  who  knows  the  secrets  of  God ;  but 
woe  to  thee  if  thou  hast  deceived  thyself 
and  this  mighty  assembly,  i 

Thus  thought  many  a  heart  as  they  saw 
Elijah,  by  one  single  act,  bring  the  reputa- 
tion oi'  God  and  his  own  life  into  apparent 
jeopardy.  But  now  there  was  no  retreat  to 
either  party,  and  the  prophets  of  Baal  cut 
their  bullock  in  pieces,  and  laid  it  or  the 


MOUNT     CARMEL.  99 

wood,  under  the  open  sky,  and  began  to  pray. 
There  was  no  room  for  deception  here — all 
was  open  and  clear,  and  every  eye  could  see 
the  fire  that  should  fall  from  the  cloudless 
heavens  above.  All  was  silent  expectation 
and  breathless  anxiety  as  this  strange  scene 
commenced.  The  sun  had  just  risen  over 
the  Holy  Land,  flooding  Mount  Carmel  w^ith 
his  beams,  as  those  foiu-  hundred  and  fifty 
prophets  knelt,  in  one  dense  mass,  around 
the  altar  and  began  their  supplications.  At 
first,  solemn  and  fervent,  as  became  the  dig- 
nity of  the  occasion,  they  besought  Baal,  for 
his  honor  and  for  the  sake  of  his  followers, 
to  hear  them.  To  send  down  fire,  and  thus 
forever  to  silence  the  tongue  of  this  hos- 
tile prophet,  was  a  small  matter  for  one  so 
powerful.  But  no  fire  descended, — the  sun 
rode  quietly  up  the  heavens, — ^the  deep 
heaved  calmly  below,  and  the  morning 
wind  went  seaward  as  gaily  as  ever.  Thus 
they  prayed  till  noon,  wiiile  the  people 
looked  on.    But  at  length  frenzy  took  the 


100  SACRED     MOUNTAINS. 

place  of  supplication,  and  it  was  one  wild 
shout  around  that  bullock,  as  it  lay  smoking 
in  the  mid-day  sun.  Elijah  till  now  had 
stood  apart  and  quietly  surveyed  the  scene, 
but  as  the  excited  throng  began  their  mad 
outcries  and  frantic  gestures,  crying,  "  O 
Baal  hear  us!"  his  long  suppressed  scorn 
broke  forth,  and  he  taunted  them  in  the 
midst  of  their  ravings,  and  said,  "  Cry  aloud, 
for  he  is  a  god ;  perhaps  he  is  busy  talking, 
and  cannot  attend  to  you  immediately  ;  or 
he  is  pursuing  his  foe,  and  cannot  stop  ;  or 
perhaps  he  is  on  a  journey,  or  asleep.  Shout 
louder,  and  wake  up  .your  God."  Bitter 
words,  that  only  increased  the  frenzy  of 
those  to  whom  they  were  addressed,  and  they 
leaped  upon  the  altar,  flinging  their  arms 
aloft,  crying  out  still  more  frantically,  "  O 
Baal,  hear  us !"  They  cut  themselves  with 
knives  and  lancets,  till  the  blood  streamed 
over  the  bullock,  and  shouted  till  Mount 
Carmel  rung  with  their  turbulent  cries, 
and  became  a  scene  of  indescribable  confu- 


MOUNT     CARMEL.  101 

sion ;  but  still  the  heavens  were  silent  and 
serene  as  ever;  no  voice  answered  them — 
no  fire  came  down.  / 

At  length  the  people  began  to  tire  of  this 
exciting  but  useless  scene,  and  the  prophets 
themselves  gave  up  in  despair.  Then  came 
Elijah's  turn.  The  sun  was  stooping  to- 
wards the  sea,  and  the  time  of  the  evening 
sacrifice  approached.  Standing  up,  he  called 
the  people  to  him,  and,  as  they  clustered 
around,  he  repaired  the  long  neglected  al- 
tar of  the  Lord,  and  placed  upon  it  twelve 
stones  for  the  twelve  tribes  of  Israel.  He 
then  dug  a  trench  around  it,  and  having 
placed  the  wood  on  the  altar,  and  the  bul- 
lock on  the  wood,  told  the  spectators  to  pour 
four  barrels  of  water  over  them.  They  did 
so.  "  Do  it  the  second  time,"  said  he,  and 
they  did  it  the  second  time,  and  the  third 
time,  till  the  trench  was  full  to  the  brim, 
and  the  wood  and  the  sacrifice  were  flooded. 
Here   could  be  no  deception,  no  concealed 

lire,  nothing  which  could  allow  the  prophets 
9* 


102  SACRED     MOUNTAIXS. 

of  Baal  to  declare  the  whole  a  trick,  for  the 
altar  was  flowing  with  water.  / 

All  is  now  ready ;  the  disappointed  proph- 
ets and  Israel's  thousands  are  looking  anx- 
iously on.  The  blazing  fireball  is  hanging 
over  the  waves  below,  and  already  the  sea 
breeze  is  stealing  landward,  for  the  time  of 
the  evening  sacrifice  has  arrived.  Elijah 
advances  towards  the  altar,  with  uncovered 
head  and  solemn  countenance,  but  with  no 
hesitation  or  alarm  in  his  glance.  His  step 
is  firm  and  his  eye  serene,  as  he  moves 
across  the  space  between  him  and  the  spec- 
tators. Yet,  methinks,  I  hear  a  voice  say- 
ing, "  Gird  now  thyself,  Elijah,  for  thine 
hour  has  come.  Thy  God  and  the  God  of 
Abraham,  and  Isaac,  and  Jacob,  thou  hast 
cast  on  one  bold  issue.  Woe  for  thee,  and 
woe  for  Israel,  if  thou  failest  !'V 

But  he  shall  not  fail.  He  kneels  and  prays. 
There  is  no  confession  of  sin,  no  pleading  for 
pardon,  for  he  is  not  asking  for  blessings  on 
his  own  head,  or  on  that  of  his  country :  he 


MOUNT     CARMEL.  103 

is  asking  God  to  vindicate  himself,  and  make 
good  his  given  word.  There  seems  no  ne- 
cessity for  strong  crying  and  earnest  suppli- 
cation ;  yet  in  that  sudden  outburst  of  ^^Hear 
me  J  O  Lordj  hear  meT  I  see  the  mighty 
wrestling  of  a  mighty  soul.  He  prays  fer- 
vently, but  solemnly.  There  is  no  contortion, 
no  assumed  tone  or  manner,  as  with  uplift- 
ed hands  he  exclaims,  "  Lord  God  of  Abra- 
ham, Isaac,  and  of  Israel,  let  it  be  known 
this  day  that  thou  art  god  in  israel,  and 
that  i  am  thy  servant,  and  that  i  have 

DONE  ALL  THESE  THINGS  AT  THY  WORD.      HeAR 

ME,  OH  Lord,  hear  me,  that  this  people 

MAY  KNOW  THAT  THOU  ART  THE  LoRD  GoD, 
AND  THAT  THOU  HAST  TURNED  THEIR  HEART 

BACK  AGAIN."  Hc  ccascd,  and  lo !  from*  the 
cloudless  heavens  fire  fell  like  falling  light- 
ning, and  the  bullock  smoked  amid  the 
water  that  flooded  it,  and  a  swift  vapor  rose 
from  the  top  of  Carmel,  and  all  was  over ! 
There  lay  the  ashes  of  the  sacrifice,  and 
there  the  dry  trenches,  and  there,  too,  knelt 


104  SACRED     MOUNTAINS. 

the  awe-struck  prophet.  For  a  moment  the 
silence  of  the  grave  hung  over  that  solitary- 
mountain,  as  the  astonished  multitude  hid 
their  faces  in  the  earth,  but  the  next  mo- 
ment there  arose  a  murmur,  swelling  gradu- 
ally louder  and  louder  like  the  gathering 
roar  of  the  sea,  till,  drowning  every  other 
sound,  it  rolled  gloriously  towards  heaven — 
"  The  Lord  he  is  the  God;  Jehovah  he  is  the 
God  P^  'Twas  done ;  Truth  had  triumphed, 
and  Israel  was  saved.  / 

But  Elijah  had  not  yet  fulfilled  his  mis- 
sion. Turning  sternly  to  the  people,  he  bade 
them  seize  the  prophets  of  Baal,  and  not  let 
one  of  them  escape.  Prayers  and  entrea- 
ties were  alike  in  vain.  Though  they  crowd 
around  the  just  now  despised  exile  with 
tears,  he  has  no  pity  for  their  fate.  God  and 
his  country  demand  their  death,  and  down 
the  mountain  slope  they  are  dragged  by  the 
indignant  people,  and  there,  by  the  margin  of 
the  brook  Kishon,  Elijah  slays  them,  and  the 
parched  earth  drinks  up  their  blood.  \ 


MOUNT     CAR  MEL.  103 

Still  the  prophet's  work  is  not  done ;  his 
country's  enemies  are  destroyed,  but  her  suf- 
ferings are  not  allayed.  The  crowd  may  re- 
turn home,  but  he,  accompanied  by  his  ser- 
vant, reascends  Carmel.  Standing  on  the 
now  silent  and  solitary  summit,  in  sight  of  the 
forsaken  altars,  he  surveys  for  a  moment  the 
heavens  above  him,  and  the  scene  around  him ; 
the  sun  is  just  bathing  his  burning  forehead  in 
the  western  wave  ere  he  sinks  to  rest,  and 
not  a  cloud  is  on  the  brazen  sky.  Casting 
himself  upon  the  earth,  and  burying  his  face 
between  his  knees,  again  he  prays.  But 
where  is  the  lofty  bearing  and  stern  aspect 
that  just  now  awed  the  people,  as  he  brought 
fire  from  heaven'?  Gone  with  the  fulfil- 
ment of  his  task.  He  was  then  defending 
the  God  of  Israel  before  scoffers  and  idola- 
ters, and  his  voice  and  aspect  became  his 
great  mission.  But  now  he  is  pleading  for 
pardon  for  his  suffering,  sinful  country  ;  he 
is  entreating  God  to  take  his  erring  people 
once  more  to  his  arms,  and  pour  upon  them 


106  SACRED     MOUNTAINS. 

his  blessings,  and  he  is  in  the  dust,  as  it  be- 
comes such  a  mediator.  For  three  years 
and  a  half  not  a  drop  of  rain  has  fallen  in 
Israel,  and  he  now  beseeches  the  Lord  to 
water  the  earth  and  stay  the  famine  and 
woe  of  the  land.  / 

As  he  closed  his  prayer,  he  bade  his  ser- 
vant go  and  look  towards  the  sea.  He 
obeyed,  and  returned,  saying,  "I  see  noth- 
ing." Again  the  prophet  poured  his  suppli- 
cations into  the  bosom  of  the  God  of  Jacob, 
and  again  sent  his  servant  to  see  if  there 
were  signs  of  rain.  Again  he  returned  as 
before.  Still  Elijah's  faith  did  not  falter. 
Again  he  prayed,  and  again  sent  his  servant, 
till  the  seventh  time.  But  the  seventh  time 
he  came  back,  saying,  "  There  is  a  little 
cloud,  rising  out  of  the  sea,  like  a  man's 
hand."  It  was  enough — Faith  was  satisfied, 
and  Elijah  arose  and  said  to  his  servant, 
"  Go  up,  say  unto  Ahab,  Prepare  thy  chariot, 
and  get  thee  down  that  the  rain  stop  thee 
not"     He   heard  the  sound  of  the  coming 


MOUNT     CAR  MEL.  107 

storm  before  it  arrived,  aye,  heard  it  long 
before,  in  the  silence  that  followed  the  death 
of  the  prophets.  And,  lo !  what  a  sight  ap- 
peared from  Mount  Carmel.  Dark  and  an- 
gry clouds  began  to  roll  up  the  scorching 
heavens, — the  sun  went  down  in  gloom, — 
the  sea  rose  and  shook  itself  to  .meet  the 
coming  tempest, — fierce  lightnings  traversed 
the  angry  masses,  as  they  pushed  them- 
selves upward, — the  thunder  came  muttering 
over  the  Mediterranean,  as  it  rolled  its  vexed 
waters  against  the  base  of  the  mountain, — 
the  sound  of  wind  and  rain  was  borne  land- 
ward, and  day  was  turned  into  sudden  night, 
as  the  storm  burst  on  the  land  of  Israel.  The 
thirsty  and  barren  earth  again  smiled  in  ver- 
dure, and  the  long  curse  was  removed.  WJiat 
a  day  of  terror  and  of  grace  that  had  been  to 
Israel,  and  as  the  prophet  lay  that  night  and 
listened  to  the  descending  rain,  methinks  his 
heart  swelled  with  deeper  gratitude  tlian 
ever  before  to  the  God  of  his  fathers.  / 
Mount  Carmel  still  stands  by  the  sea,  and 


WS  SACRED     MOUNTAINS. 

overlooks  the  same  prospect,  but  the  people 
of  God  are  no  longer  there.  Priest  and 
prophet  have  disappeared,  and  there  is  no 
Elijah  now  to  plead  in  their  behalf.  A 
Turkish  mosque  stands  where  arose  the  al- 
tar of  God,  and  the  Muezzin's  voice  rings 
where  arose  the  prayer  of  the  prophet.  / 


/  liEBANON  is  not  an  isolated  peak,  but  a 
chain  of  mountains  running  through  the 
south  of  Syria.  There  are  two  grand  ridges 
rising  above  the  rest,  called  Libanus  or  Leb- 
anon, and  Antelibanus.  The  name  signifies 
white  mountain,  and  was  given  to  this  range 
from  the  white  appearance  its  snow-capt 
summits  present,  and  also  perhaps  from  the 
limestone  rocks  that  form  it.  The  highest 
mountain  in  Syria,  covered  with  snow  both 
in  summer  and  winter,  Lebanon  naturally 
became  a  marked  object  to  the  Israelites  in 
that  warm  climate.  Still  it  has  been  conse- 
crated by  no  great  event — no  manifestation 

of  God  there  has  made  its  soil  sacred  to  the 

10 


110  SACRED     MOUNTAINS. 

pilgrim,  and  it  has  not  that  claim  to  a  place 
among  the  list  of  immortal  mountains  that 
others  possess.  It  is,  nevertheless,  mention- 
ed so  frequently  in  the  Bible,  and  spoken  of 
with  such  delight  by  prophets  and  kings,  and^ 
indeed,  used  so  often  by  God  hjmself  to  illus- 
trate his  declarations  to  his  people,  that  we 
have  come  to  regard  it  as  a  holy  mountain. 
Besides,  the  wood  for  Solomon's  temple  was 
cut  from  its  slopes,  and  many  of  the  sacred 
utensils  were  made  from  its  fragrant  cedars. 
Christ  and  the  church  are  also  likened  to 
Lebanon,  from  their»  fruitfulness,  and  fra- 
grance, and  glory.  Even  Jerusalem  was 
sometimes  called  Lebanon,  because  the  tem- 
ple and  the  houses  were  built  almost  en- 
tirely of  its  cedars.  / 

The  Lebanon  range  furnished  several 
peaks  more  or  less  elevated,  and  though  the 
highest  was  usually  white  with  snow,  those 
more  depressed  were  covered  with  vine- 
yards, while  fountains  leaped  from  the  de- 
clivities and  cool  brooks  wound  through  the 


MOUNT     LEBANON.  Ill 

fragrant  fields  that  carpeted  their  sides — now 
glowing  in  the  sunlight  jas  they  crept  over 
the  landscape,  and  now  lost  amid  the  green 
shrubbery  that  clustered  on  the  shores,  until 
they  at  lengdi  reached  the  plain  and  flowed 
away  towards  the  streams  of  Abana,  and 
Parphar,  and  Jordan.  As  the  traveller  ap- 
proached Lebanon,  the  cool  breeze  that  fell 
from  its  summit  made  him  forget  the  heat 
and  toil  of  the  way,  and  bless  the  lueights 
that  poured  such  freshness  and  health  into 
his  path.  And  as  he  lifted  his  eyes, 
the  scene  before  him  ravished  his  senses. 
All  along  the  hill-sides,  and  over  the  rolling 
heights,  spread  away  vineyards  in  every  di- 
rection, while  here  and  there,  half  hid  amid 
the  grapes,  peep^ed  forth  the  vine-dresser's 
cottage,  and  clustering  trees,  and  babbling 
streams,  and  all  the  beauty  and  verdure  of 
an  eastern  clime  seemed  to  have  been  gath- 
ered there  in  their  greatest  richness  and 
variety,  while  to  finish  the  picture,  endless 
forests  ^of  cedars  waved   along   the   top — a 


112  SACRED     MOUNTAINS. 

green  crown  to  all  the  beauty  below,  making 
it  indeed  "  the  glory  of  Lebanon."  Those 
lofty  cedars  caught  the  first  sunlight  in  the 
land  of  Israel,  and  on  their  green  tops  the 
last  beams  of  day  lingered  long  after  deep 
shadow  filled  the  plains  below.  The  fruitful 
fields  and  pure  water,  and  spring-like  verdure 
and  coolness,  made  the  mountain  known  even 
beyond  the  boundaries  of  Canaan.  Moses 
had  heard  of  it  and  longed  to  see  it  before 
he  died.  "  I  pray  thee,"  said  he,  as  he  be- 
sought the  Lord  to  let  him  enter  Canaan, 
"  let  me  go  over  and  see  the  good  land  that 
is  beyond  Jordan,  and  that  goodly  mountain^ 
Lebanon^  / 

One  who  has  never  travelled  in  a  warm 
climate  and  a  desert  country,  cannot  appre- 
ciate the  feelings  of  the  inhabitants  towards 
a  forest-covered  and  fruitful  mountain.  By 
the  coolness  it  imparts  to  the  atmosphere, 
the  pure  water  it  sends  to  the  vales,  and  the 
wood  it  furnishes  to  the  builder,  it  is  viewed 
one  of  the  greatest  blessings  of  the  land,  \ 


MOUNT     LEBANON  113 

Such  was  Lebanon  when  Jerusalem  was 
in  its  glory.  David  sang  of  it — to  have  ''  his 
fruit  shake  like  Lebanon"  was  to  make  one 
rich  in  blessings.  To  "  grow  like  a  cedar  in 
Lebanon"  was  to  flourish  in  unchecked 
vigor.  Solomon,  too,  in  less  exalted  strains, 
sung  of  the  "  wood  of  Lebanon,"  of  its  fra- 
grance and  its  streams.  The  countenance 
of  "  his  beloved  was  like  Lebanon,"  and 
"excellent  as  the  cedars."  Isaiah  thought 
of  it  in  his  moments  of  highest  rapture,  and 
as  he  foresaw  the  increase  of  the  church  of 
God,  he  bursts  forth,  "  the  glory  of  Lebanon 
shall  come  unto  thee,  the  fir-tree,  and  the 
pine-tree,  and  the  box  together,  to  beautify 
the  place  of  my  sanctuary,  and  I  will  make 
the  place  of  my  feet  glorious."  Jeremiah 
makes  God  compare  the  royal  house  of 
Judah  to  Lebanon,  saying,  ^'  thou  art  Gilead 
unto  me,  and  the  head  of  Lebanon."  Hosea 
in  predicting  the  future  greatness  of  Israel 
exclaims,  "  thus  saith  the  Lord,  I  will  be  as 

dew  unto  Israel ;  he  shall  grow  as  the  lily 
10* 


114  SACRED     MOUNTAINS. 

and  cast  forth  his  roots  as  Lebanon.  His 
branches  shall  spread,  and  his  beauty  ^hall 
be  as  the  olive  tree,  and  his  smell  as  Leb- 
anon. They  that  dwell  under  his  shadow 
shall  return,  they  shall  revive  as  the  corn 
and  grow  as  the  vine,  the  scent  thereof  shall 
be  as  the  wine  of  Lebanon."  Thus  did  the 
poet  and  the  prophet  make  use  of  Lebanon 
to  illustrate  the  truths  of  heaven,  consecra- 
ting its  name,  if  not  itself,  the  world  over.  / 

The  forests  of  cedars  that  covered  its 
heights  must  have  been  well  nigh  exhaust- 
less,  for  not  only  was  the  temple  built  from 
them,  and  most  of  Jerusalem  itself,  but  it 
furnished  all.  the  timber  for  shipping  to  the 
Tyrians  and  Sidonians,  then  the  greatest 
commercial  nations  on  the  globe.  Here  too, 
the  Assyrians  and  Chaldeans,  when  they 
overran  Syria,  Canaan,  and  Phenicia,  ob- 
tained their  wood  to  carry  on  their  sieges; 
and  yet  to  expiate  sin,  "  Lebanon  is  not  suf- 
ficient to  burn,  nor  the  beasts  thereof  suffi- 
cient for  a  burnt-offering."/ 


MOUNT     LEBANON.  115 

But  the  glory  of  Lebanon  is  gone — -the  ce- 
dars that  covered  it  are  fallen,  and  the  na- 
tion that  crowded  at  its  base  is  peeled  and 
scattered  over  the  earth.  The  curse  of  the 
Holy  One  has  fallen  upon  it,  and  the  proph- 
ecy that  ^'Lebanon  should  fall"  and  her 
^'  tall  cedars  be  cut  down,"  has  been  fulfilled. 
Of  all  her  ancient  groves,  but  few  now  re- 
main, and  they  are  bereft  of  their  former 
glory.  Mere  monuments  of  the  past,  just 
sufficient  by  contrast  to  make  the  desolation 
complete,  they  arrest ^the  eye  of  the  traveller 
only  to  move  his  heart  with  sorrow.  / 

Villages  are  still  scattered  over  the  heights, 
and  the  vine-dresser's  voice  is  still  heard  as 
of  old,  but  all  else  how  changed !  Innumer- 
able convents  dot  the  sides  of  the  ancient 
pride  of  Israel,  and  the  Maronite  is  the  chief 
dweller  there.  The  terraced  vineyards  are 
beautiful  along  the  slopes,  and  the  great 
"cedar  grove"  belting  the  highest  summit 
of  the  mountain,  together  with  the  ruins  of 
ancient  temples  slowly  crumbling  back   to 


116  SACRED     MOUNTAINS 

dust,  are  worthy  of  the  pilgrim's  toil.  But, 
alas,  the  ancient  sJirine  is  shattered,  and  Ma- 
hometan rites  have  taken  the  place  of  the 
Hebrew's  prayer  and  sacrifice.  / 

From  the  sea,  Lebanon  is  still  glorious  to 
behold.  Rising  ten  thousand  feet  in  the 
heavens,  it  rolls  its  white  and  ancient  peaks 
along  the  sky,  as  if  it  constituted  the  outer 
wall  of  the  earth.  Running  from  the  north- 
east to  the  south-west,  it  stretches  from  op- 
posite Damascus  to  the  plains  of  Esdraelon, 
into  which  it  seems  to  sink.  The  great  land- 
mark of  that  country,  it  stands  un wasted  by 
the  ravages  of  time,  a  silent  witness  of  the 
truth  of  revelation,  and  the  fulfilment  of 
prophecy.  Nations  may  be  born  and  die,  at 
its  base  cities  sink  and  rise,  and  the  records 
of  human  history  fail ;  yet  so  long  as  the 
Bible  remains,  Lebanon  shall  stand  as  one 
of  its  witnesses — a  perpetual  memento  of  de- 
parted glory.  Around  its  hallowed  form 
rests  an  atmosphere  of  beauty,  and  to  the 


MOUNT     LEBANON.  117 

end  of  time  the  traveller,  pausing  at  its  base, 
shall  sigh  as  he  remembers  how  the  poets 
of  Israel  struck  their  lyres,  and  the  prophets 
of  God  breathed  forth  their  numbers  in  its 
praise.  / 


/  Perhaps  there  is  no  name  in  human  nis- 
tory  the  men^iori  of  which  awakens  so  many 
thrilling  associations  as  that  of  Zion.  It  not 
only  represents  the  ancient  Jewish  church, 
and  all  that  was  dear  and  holy  in  her,  but  it 
is  applied  to  the  Christian  church  at  the  pres- 
ent day.  Confined  to  no  sect  and  no  clime, 
and  no  language;  it  embraces  in  itsxatholici- 
ty  all  who  love  God,  binding  them  in  one  en- 
dearing epithet  together  to  the  end  of  time. 
'  Zion  !"  there  is  something  sad  as  well  as 
delightful  in  the  word,  and  the  heart  pauses 
over  it  with  a  sigh  half  of  regret  and  half  of 
affection,  for  the  past,  while  its  mournful  his- 
tory, rises  to  view.     Zion  has  had  tears  as 


M 


5^     >■ 


MOUNT     ZION.  119 

well  as  raptures,  suffering  as  well  as  joy,  and 
her  note  of  lamentation  has  arisen  as  often 
as  her  song  of  thanksgiving.  He  who  has 
kept  a  record  of  her  tears  knows  full  well 
her  conflicts  and  her  trials,  and  that  from  the 
time  of  her  toilsome  flight  through  the  wil- 
derness and  desert  to  the  land  of  Canaan  till 
now,  she  has  been  a  stranger  and  sojourner 
in  a  world  of  wicked  men.  Now  scattered 
to  the  four  winds  of  heaven,  her  children 
sad  captives  and  her  home  the  prey  of  the 
spoiler,  she  has  wept  unavailing  tears  at  the 
feet  of  her  spoilers  ;  and  now  rent  by  inward 
dissensions  and  secret  foes,  she  has  commit- 
ted suicide  around  her  own  altars.  But  still 
her  very  dust  has  been  precious  in  the  eyes 
of  him  who  hath  formed  her  for  himself ;  and 
out  of  the  most  hopeless  bondage,  from  deep- 
est ruin,  he  has  again  called  her,  and  adorned 
her  with  robes  of  beauty,  and  put  a  crown 
of  glory  on  her  head,  and  made  her  enemies 
to  flee  before  her.  Amid  the  amazement  of 
those  who  believed  her  ruin  complete,  and 


120  SACRED     MOUNTAINS. 

the  astonishment  of  her  friends,  a  voice  has 
been  heard  to  say, 

•'  Zion  still  is  well  beloved."  / 

The  literal  Mount  Zion  was  one  of  the 
hills  on  which  Jerusalem  was  built.  It  stood 
near  Mount  Moriah,  where  Abraham  offered 
up  Isaac  to  the  Lord,  and  witnessed  that 
greatest  triumph  of  humiin  faith  ;  and  centu- 
ries afterwards,  when  the  temple  covered 
the  summit  of  the  former,  it  formed  the  heart 
and  strength  of  tjie  city.  Situated  at  the 
southern  extremity,  it  rose  above  every  other 
part  of  Jerusalem,  and  came  in  time  to  stand 
for  the  city  itself  At  first  it  seems  strange 
that  Zion  should  have  become  a  word  filled 
with  such  endearing  associations  to  the  Jews. 
They  could  never  let  it  go  from  them 
when  speaking  of  their  city.  If  her  strength 
as  a  fortress  was  spoken  of,  the  language 
was,  "  Walk  about  ZioUj  and  go  round  about 
her;  tell  the  towers  thereof:  mark  ye  well 
her  bulwarks,  and  consider  her  palaces ;" — 


MOUNT     ZION.  121 

if  her  elevation,  it  was,  *'  The  holy  hill  of 
ZionP  God's  affection  for  his  people  was 
expressed  by  his  love  for  Zion^  "  He  loveth 
the  gates  of  Zion,"  "  The  Lord  hath  chosen 
Zion."  As  if  this  were  not  enough,  they  and 
their  city  together  are  called  ^'  Daughter  of 
Zion."  Occupied  by  the  son  of  Jesse,  it  be- 
came the  ''  City  of  David,"  the  representa- 
tive of  all  that  was  dear  and  cherished  in  Is- 
rael. Hence  it  was  called  also  the  ^'  Holy 
hill  of  Zion,  whither  the  tribes  went  up,  the 
tribes  of  the  Lord  unto  the  testimony  of  Is- 
rael." It  was  "  God's  hill,  in  which  it  de- 
lighted him  to  dwell."  Thus  every  thing 
conspired  to  render  "Zion"  the  spell-word 
of  the  nation,  and  on  its  summit  the  heart 
of  Israel  seemed  to  lie  and  throb.  While  it 
remained  unshaken  by  its  foes,  hope  and  joy 
reigned  in  every  bosom,  but  when  the  feet 
of  the  spoiler  trod  its  sacred  top,  and  his 
conquering  troops  swept  over  it„  a  cry  of  de- 
spair went  up  around  its  towers.  / 

How  often  the  name  is  on  the  lips  of  Da- 
1] 


122  SACRED     MOUNTAINS. 

vid ;  and  every  string  of  his  harp  seems 
tuned  to  utter  "  ZionJ^  In  a  burst  of  lofty- 
enthusiasm,  carried  away  by  a  sudden  trans- 
port as  he  contemplates  its  glory  and 
strength,  he  exclaims,  "  Beautiful  for  situa- 
tion^ the  joy  oftlie  whole  earth  is  Mount  Zion; 
God  is  known  in  her  palaces  for  a  refuge. 
Let  Mjunt  Zion  rejoice^  let  the  daughters  of 
Judah  be  glad,  for  this  God  is  our  God  for 
ever  and  ever.^^  / 

But  perhaps  there  is  no  exhibition  of  the 
love  the  Hebrev^s  bore  for  it  so  touching  as 
the  reply  they  made  when  captives  in  Baby- 
lon, to  those  who  required  of  tiiem  a  song. 
''The  joy  of  the  earth"  had  been  ravaged, 
and  that  "  holy  hill,"  so  ^'  beautiful  for  situ- 
ation" laid  desolate  by  the  enemy.  Its  pal- 
aces were  broken  down,  and  a  heap  of  ruins 
alone  marked  the  spot  where  the  "  City  of 
David"  arose.  On  its  top  Israel's  thousands 
had  stood  and  battled  for  its  safety.  Their 
fearful  war-cry  had  rung  along  its  streets, 
as  the  banner  of  David  rose  and  fell  in  the 


MOUNT     ZION.  123 

doubtful  fight,  till  borne  back  and  over- 
whelmed, leaving  thousands  of  corpses  as 
bloody  testimonials  of  the  desperate  conflict, 
they  at  length  yielded  to  numbers  and  Jeru- 
salem fell.  A  multitude  of  captives  graced 
the  triumphal  entrance  of  the  victors  into 
Babylon,  and  the  city  shook  to  the  shouts  of 
welcome.  But  the  pageantry  was  soon  for- 
gotten, and  the  prisoners  became  objects  only 
of  idle  curiosity  as  they  moved  sadly  along 
the  streets,  or  sat  in  groups  under  the  trees  of 
the  public  wa'ks.  Me  thinks  I  see  that  little 
band,  as  strolling  one  day  through  the  city 
they  sat  down  by  its  fountains  and  listened 
to  the  murmur  of  the  streams  that  swept  by. 
The  scene  was  beautiful,  and  it  reminded 
them  of  the  hill  of  Zion  where  they  had  so 
often  strayed — the  home  of  their  hearts — 
never  to  be  seen  again.  As  they  thus  sat 
and  conversed  in  their  native  tongue,  filled 
w^ith  sad  remembrances, — their  neglected 
harps  hanging  on  the  willows — the  heartless 
and  curious  passed  by,  and  stopped  to  view 


124  SACRED      MOUNTAINS. 

their  strange  apparel  and  listen  to  their  still 
stranger  language  As  they  saw  their  harps 
hanging  beside  them  they  asked  for  a  native 
song.  The  hearts  of  the  captives  were  sad 
enough  before,  but  this  sudden  recalling  of 
the  joys  of  the  past  was  too  much  for  their 
overburdened  feelings,  and  a  burst  of  tears 
was  the  only  answer,  as  they  shook  their 
heads  in  mournful  silence.  \ 

That  day  of  bitterness  they  could  never 
forget,  and  whenever  memory  recalled  it  the 
heart  seemed  to  live  over  agi  in  its  hour  of 
woe,  and  they  said,  ''  By  the  rivers  of  Baby- 
lon there  we  sat  down,  yea,  we  wept  when 
we  remembered  Zion.  We  hung  our  harps 
upon  the  willows  in  the  midst  thereof.  For 
there  they  that  carried  us  away  captive  re- 
quired of  us  a  song,  and  they  that  wasted  us 
asked  for  mirth,  saying.  Sing  us  one  of  the 
songs  of  Zion.  How  shall  we  sing  the 
Lord's  song  in  a  strange  land.  If  I  forget 
thee,  Ob  Jerusalem,  let  my  right  hand  forget 
her  cunning.     If  I  do  not  remember  thee,  let 


MOUNT     ZION.  125 

my  tongue  cleave  to  the  roof  of  my  mouth  if 
I  prefer  not  Jerusalem  above  my  chief  joy." 
They  did  not  forget  her,  and  the  city  of  Da- 
vid once  more  rose  over  the  hill  of  Zion,  and 
the  banner  of  Israel  again  floated  from  its 
heights,  for  God  had  remembered  her  tears 
and  forgiven  her  sins.\ 

Years  passed,  and  though  visited  by  mis- 
fortune and  riiin  for  its  departures  from  the 
Lord,  Zion  still  arose  in  its  glory  and  strength. 
But  at  length  its  long  line  of  kings  disappear- 
ed— the  Roman  occupied  it,  and  the  eagles  of 
Caesar  took  the  place  of  the  banner  of  David. 
Still  Mount  Zion  stood,  beautiful  as  of  old, 
the  pride  of  the  conqueror ;  but  its  cup  of  in- 
iquity was  fast  filling  to  the  brim.  Shiloh 
had  come,  and  the  rejected  Saviour,  as  he 
overlooked  the  city,  wept  in  view  of  its  ap- 
proaching doom.  Tliere  was  Mount  Moriah 
lifting  the  temple  on  high,  whose  glorious 
form  dazzled  the  eyes  of  the  beholder  as  the 
sunbeams   fell   upon  it;    and   there,   higher 

yet.  Mount  Zion,  with  its  countless  palaces 
11* 


126  SACRED     MOUNTAINS. 

and  domes  and  towers  of  strength,  before 
him.  His  heart  yearned  over  the  "  glory  of 
the  earth,"  and  the  daughter  of  Zion  looked 
beautiful  upon  her  throne  of  hills ;  and  as  he 
thought  of  the  past — of  her  toils  and  suffer- 
ings^of  her  former  faithfulness,  and  all  that 
God  had  done  for  her,  words  of  deepest  love 
were  heard  to  fall  from  his  lips.  But  amid 
them  was  also  heard  the  startling  language, 
"  Behold  your  house  is  left  unto  you  desolate.^^  \ 
The  last  drop  in  the  cup  of  crime,  the 
crowning  guilt  at  length  came, — Zion  cru- 
cified her  Saviour.  Then  the  long  delayed 
curse  fell,  and  Roman  legions  girdled  the 
city.  Mount  Zion  became  the  scene  of 
the  severest  strife  that  had  ever  wasted  it, 
and  of  the  keenest  sufferings  its  crimes  had 
ever  brought  upon  it.  Although  a  troop  of 
flaming  seraphs  had  stooped  on  the  temple,- 
and  with  the  words  "  let  us  depart,"  wheeled 
away  to  heaven  again,  and  chariots  of  fire 
had  been  seen  jostling  against  each  other  in 
the  evening  heavens,  and  a  flaming^sword 


MOUNT     ZION.  127 

been  suspended  over  the  city,  and  the  woe 
of  the  denouncing  prophet  heard  along  its 
walls,  still  the  doomed  inhabitants  believed 
them  not  as  omens  of  evil.  Under  their  an- 
cient banner  they  once  more  rallied  for  the 
conflict,  and  for  a  long  time  Mount  Zion 
stood  like  a  tower  of  strength  amid  her  foes. 
Beating  back  the  tide  of  battle  from  her 
sides,  she  proved  worthy  of  her  olden  re- 
nown. Standing  shoulder  to  shoulder  on 
that  glorious  hill-top,  the  tens  of  thousands 
of  Israel's  warriors  presented  an  unbroken 
front  to  the  foe,  and  their  shout  went  up 
as  strong  and  terrible  as  when  Joshua  led 
them  on  to  victory.  "  Zion  shall  be  ploughed 
as  a  fields  and  Jerusalem  shall  become  heaps  P'' 
Impossible !  "  Walk  about  Zion  and  go 
round  about  her,"  "  mark  her  bulwarks,  tell 
the  towers  thereof,  consider  her  palaces," 
number  if  ye  can  her  warriors,  proud  of 
their  strength  and  confident  in  their  re- 
sources. But  the  decree  has  gone  forth, 
"  Zion  shall  be  ploughed  as  ajieW^     Famine 


128  SACRED      MOUNTAINS. 

^is  stronger  than  the  arm  of  the  warrior,  and 
inward  dissensions  more  wasting  than  the 
sword  of  the  enemy.  The  banner  of  Israel 
still  floats  in  the  breeze,  but  it  waves  over 
the  blood  of  her  children.  Pestilence  has 
entered,  the  gates,  and  the  groans  of  the  dy- 
ing rise  from  every  house.  Bloated  forms 
are  seen  staggering  round  the  empty  market 
places,  chewing  wisps  of  straw  and  leather 
for  food,  and  falling  dead  in  their  footsteps. 
Despairing  eyes,  and  wan  and  haggard  faces 
stare  from  every  window,  and  corpses  are 
hurried  in  crowds  over  the  walls,  till  even  the 
enemy  turn  away  from  the  fetid  air.  The 
strong  fall  on  the  weak  and  tear  them  asun- 
der, to  get  the  morsel  they  have  swallow^ed, 
and  mothers  devour  even  their  own  offsprmg. 
The  thunder  of  engines  is  heard  against  the 
walls  without,  and  the  clash  of  steel  mingles 
in  the  wild  confusion.  Yet  even  aiiiid  this 
terror  and  woe,  Zion  fights  against  herself 
and  strives  to  swell  the  slaughter  of  her  own 
children.     At  length  the  last  day  and  last 


MOUNT     ZION.  129 

hour  come —  the  temple  is  on  fire  and  blazes 
balefully  up  from  Mount  Moriah — the  eagles 
of  Caesar  f'ash  alc.no^  the  crowded  streets,  and 
the  shrieks  of  the  flying  and  the  shout  of  the 
struggling,  mingling  with  the  crackling  of 
the  flames,  rise  over  the  city.  Zion  at 
length  yields,  the  last  strong-hold  is  taken, 
and  the  spoiler  roams  unchecked  through 
the  streets.  "  Jerusalem  is  in  heaps,"  de- 
struction has  done  her  worst,  and  silence 
reigns  amid  the  desolation.  / 

Their  task  at  length  accomplished,  the 
victors  take  up  their  line  of  march,  followed 
by  the  long  train  of  captives,  and  depart. 
As  they  ascend  the  last  slope  that  overlooks 
Jerusalem,  that  mournful  band  pause  and 
turn  to  give  a  farewell  look  to  Mount  Zion. 
As  they  behold  it  strewed  with  burning  ruins 
and  think  of  their  desolate  homes  jever  to 
be  rebuilt  or  revisited,  and  see  but  a  cloud 
of  smoke  where  the  glorious  temple  stood, 
tears  of  unavailing  sorrow  stream  from  their 


130  SACRED     MOUNTAINS. 

eyes,  and  a  "  note  of  lamentation  swells  upon 
the  breeze." 

Years  have  passed  by,  and  the  plough- 
share is  driven  over  the  top  of  Zion.  Where 
its  towers  and  palaces  stood  grain  waves  in 
the  passing  wind,  or  ruins  overlaying  each 
other  attest  the  truth  of  the  Word  of  God. 
The  Arab  spurs  his  steed  along  the  forsa- 
ken streets,  or  scornfully  stands  on  Mount 
Zion  and  surveys  the  forsaken  city  of  God.\ 

But  the  promise  is  still  sure — Zion  is  not 
forgotten,  nor  is  her  glory  gone.  The  church 
of  God  still  lives  and  flourishes  in  more  than 
her  ancient  beauty.  Kingdoms  may  rise  and 
fall  like  waves  along  the  sea,  and  the  strong- 
est monuments  of  human  skill  crumble  to 
dust,  and  the  earth  itself  change  places,  Zion 
is  still  secure.  No  foe  can  finally  prevail 
against  Jher,  nor  even  time,  under  whose  cor- 
roding tooth  all  things  disappear,  touch  her 
life.  She  has  brighter  palaces  than  those 
which  adorned  Jerusalem,  and  firmer  towers 
and   bulwarks  than  those   built  by  human 


MOUNT     ZION.  131 

hands.  Unseen  warriors  hover  around  her 
battlements — and  the  banner  over  her  shall 
float  triumphantly  amid  the  chaos  of  a  crum- 
bling world.  There  is  also  a  Mount  Zion  in 
heaven,  covered  with  harpers,  -and  the  re- 
deemed in  their  white  vestures  are  there,  and 
the  song  they  sing  has  no  dying  cadence.  Its 
top  is  crowned  with  a  more  glorious  temple 
that  ever  adorned  an  earthly  city,  and  there 
nothing  that  "  can  hurt  or  make  afraid'^  shall 
ever  enter./ 


/What  strange  contra.si:s  this  earth  of  ours 
j)resents.  It  seems  to  be  the  middle  spot  be- 
tween heaven  and  hell,  and  to  partake  of  the 
character  of  both.  Beings  from  both  are 
found  moving  over  its  surface,  and  scenes 
from  both  are  constantly  occurring  upon  it. 
The  glory  from  one  and  the  midnight  shades 
from  the  other  meet  along  its  bosom,  and  the 
song  of  angels  and  the  shriek  of  fiends  go  up 
from  the  same  spot.  Noonday  and  midnight 
are  not  more  opposite  than  the  scenes  that 
are  constantly  passing  before  our  eyes.  The 
temple  of  God  stands  beside  a  brothel,  and 
the  place  of  prayer  is  separated  only  by  a 
dwelling  from  the  "  hell''  of  the  gam- 


MOUNT     TABOR. 


133 


bier.  Truth  and  falsehood  walk  side  by  side 
through  our  streets,  and  vice  and  virtue  meet 
and  pass  every  hour  of  the  day.  The  hut  of 
the  starving  stands  in  the  shadow  of  the  pal- 
ace of  the  wealthy,  and  the  carriage  of  Dives 
every  day  throws  the  dust  of  its  glittering 
w^heels  over  the  tattered  garments  of  Lazarus. 
Health  and  sickness  lie  down  in  the  same 
apartment;  joy  and  agony  look  out  of  the 
same  window ;  and  hope  and  despair  dwell 
under  the  same  roof.  The  cry  of  the  new- 
born infant  and  the  groan  of  the  dying  rise 
together  from  the  same  dwelling ;  the  funeral 
procession  treads  close  on  the  heels  of  the 
bridal  party,  and  the  tones  of  the  lute  and 
viol  have  scarcely  died  away  before  the  re- 
quiem for  the  dead  comes  swelling  after. 
Oh !  the  beautiful  and  deformed,  the  pure 
and  corrupt,  joy  and  sorrow,  ecstacies  and 
agonies,  life  and  death,  are  strangely  blent 
on  this  restless  planet  of  ours.  / 

But  the  past  and  future  present  as  strange 

contrasts   as   the   present.      What   different 
12 


134  SACRED     MOUNTAINS. 

events  have  transpired  on  the  same  spot. 
Where  the  smoke  of  the  Indian's  wigwam 
arose,  and  the  stealthy  tread  of  the  wolf  and 
panther  was  heard  over  the  autumn  leaves 
at  twilight,  the  population  of  New  York  now 
surges  along.  Where  once  Tyre  the  queen 
of  the  sea  stood,  fishermen  are  spreading 
their  nets  on  the  desolate  rocks,  and  the 
bright  waves  are  rolling  over  its  marble  col- 
umns. In  the  empty  apartments  of  Edom 
the  fox  makes  his  den,  and  the  dust  of  the 
desert  is  sifting  over  the  forsaken  ruins  of 
Palmyra.  The  owl  hoots  in  the  ancient  halls 
of  kings,  and  the  wind  of  the  summer  night 
makes  sad  music  through  the  rents  of  once 
gorgeous  palaces.  The  Arab  spurs  his  steed 
along  the  streets  of  ancient  Jerusalem,  or 
scornfully  stands  and  curls  his  lip  at  the 
pilgrim  pressing  wearily  to  the  sepulchre 
of  the  Saviour.  The  Muezzin's  voice  rings 
over  the  bones  of  the  prophefs,  and  the 
desert  wind  heaps  the  dust  above  the  foun- 
dations of  the  seven  churches  of  Asia.     Oh, 


MOUNT     TABOR.  135 

how  good  and  evil,  light  and  darkness,  chase 
each  other  over  the  world.  / 

Forty-seven  years  ago,  a  form  was  seen 
standing:  on  Mount  Tabor  with  which  the 
world  has  since  become  familiar.  It  w^as  a 
bright  spring  morning,  and  as  he  sat  on  his 
steed  in  the  clear  sunlight,  his  eye  rested  on 
a  scene  in  the  vale  below,  which  was  sub- 
lime and  appalling  enough  to  quicken  the 
pulsations  of  the  calmest  heart.  That  form 
was  Napoleon  Bonaparte,  and  the  scene  be- 
fore him  the  fierce  and  terrible  ''  Battle  op 
Mount  Tabor."  From  Nazareth,  where  the 
Saviour  once  trod,  Kleber  had  marched  with 
three  thousand  French  soldiers  forth  into  the 
plain,  when  lo,  at  the  foot  of  Mount  Tabor 
he  saw  the  whole  Turkish  army  drawn  up 
in  order  of  battle.  Fifteen  thousand  infantry 
and  twelve  thousand  splendid  cavalry  moved 
down  in  majestic  strength  on  this  band  of 
three  thousand  French.  Kleber  had  scarcely 
time  to  throw  his  handful  of  men  into  squares, 
with  the  cannon  at  the  angles,  before  those 

0^ 


136  SACRED     MOUNTAINS 

twelve  thousand  horse,  making  the  earth 
smoke  and  thunder  as  they  came,  burst  in  a 
headlong  gallop  upon  them.  But  round  those 
steady  squares  rolled  a  fierce  devouring  fire, 
emptying  the  saddles  of  those  wild  horsemen 
with  frightful  rapidity,  and  strewing  the  earth 
with  the  bodies  of  riders  and  steeds  together 
Again  and  again  did  those  splendid  sqviad- 
rons  wheel,  re-form  and  charge  with  deafen- 
ing shouts,  while  their  uplifted  and  flashing 
scimitars  gleamed  like  a  forest  of  steel  through 
tiie  smoke  of  battle :  but  that  same  wasting 
fire  received  them ;  till  those  squares  seemed 
bound  by  a  girdle  of  flame,  so  rapid  and  con- 
slant  were  the  discharges.  Before  their  cer- 
tain and  deadly  aim,  as  they  stood  fighting 
for  existence,  the  charging  squadrons  fell  so 
fast  that  a  rampart  of  dead  bodies  was  soon 
formed  around  them.  Behind  this  embank- 
ment of  dead  men  and  horses  this  band  of 
warriors  stood  and  fought  for  six  dreadful 
hours,  and  was  still  steadily  thinning  the 
ranks   of   the   enemy,   w^hen   Napoleon   de- 


MOUNT     TABOR.  137 

bjuched  with  a  single  division  on  Mount 
Tabor,  and  turned  his  eye  below.  What  a 
scene  met  his  gaze.  The  w^iole  plain  was 
filled  wath  marching  columns  and  charging 
squadrons  of  w^ildly  galloping  steeds,  while 
the  thunder  of  cannon  and  fierce  rattle  of 
musketry,  amid  which  now  and  then  was 
heard  the  blast  of  thousands  of  trumpets,  and 
strains  of  martial  music,  filled  all  the  air. 
The  smoke  of  battle  w^as  rolling  furiously 
over  the  hosts,  and  all  was  confusion  and 
chaos  in  his  sight.  Amid  the  twenty-seven 
thousand  Turks  that  crowded  the  plain  and 
enveloped  their  enemy  like  a  cloud,  and  amid 
the  incessant  discharge  of  artillery  and  mus- 
ketry, Napoleon  could  tell  where  his  own 
brave  troops  were  struggling,  only  by  the 
steady  simultaneous  vollies  which  showed 
how  discipline  was  contending  with  the 
wild  valor  of  overpow^ering  numbers.  The 
constant  flashes  from  behind  that  rampart  of 
dead  bodies  were  like  spots  of  flame  on  the 

tumultuous  and  chaotic  field.     Napoleon  de- 
12* 


138  SACRED     MOUNTAINS, 

scended  from  Mount  Tabor  with  his  little 
band;  while  a  single  twelve-pounder,  fired 
from  the  heights,  told  the  wearied  Kleber 
that  he  was  rushing  to  the  rescue.  Then  for 
the  first  time  he  took  the  offensive,  and 
pouring  his  enthusiastic  followers  on  the 
foe,  carried  death  and  terror  over  the  field. 
Thrown  into  confusion,  and  trampled  under 
foot,  that  mighty  army  rolled  turbulently 
back  towards  the  Jordan,  where  Murat  was 
anxiously  waiting  to  mingle  in  the  fight. 
Dashing  with  his  cavalry  among  the  disor- 
dered ranks,  he  sabred  them  down  without 
mercy,  and  raged  like  a  lion  amid  the  prey. 
This  chivalric  and  romantic  warrior  declared 
that  the  remembrance  of  the  scenes  that  once 
transpired  on  Mount  Tabor,  and  on  these 
thrice  consecrated  spots,  came  to  him  in  the 
hottest  of  the  fight,  and  nerved  him  with  ten- 
fold courage./ 

As  the  sun  went  down  over  the  plains  of 
Palestine,  and  twilight  shed  its  dim  ray  over 
the  rent  and  trodden  and  dead-covered  field, 


MOUNT     TABOR.  139 

a  sulphurous  cloud  hung  around  the  summit 
of  Mount  Tabor.  The  smoke  of  battle  had 
settled  there  where  once  the  cloud  of  glory 
rested,  while  groans  and  shrieks  and  cries 
rent  the  air.  Nazareth,  Jordan  and  Mount 
Tabor !  what  spots  for  batUe-fields !  / 

Roll  back  twenty  centuries  and  again 
view  that  hill.  The  day  is  bright  and  beau- 
tiful as  then,  and  the  same  rich  oriental  land- 
scape is  smiling  in  the  same  sun.  There  is 
Nazareth  with  its  busy  population, — the 
same  Nazareth  from  which  Kleber  marched 
his  army :  and  there  is  Jordan  rolling  its 
bright  waters  along, — the  same  Jordan  along 
whose  banks  charged  the  glittering  squad- 
rons of  Murat's  cavalry :  and  there  is  Mount 
Tabor, — the  same  on  which  Bonaparte  stood 
w^ith  his  cannon :  and  the  same  beautiful 
plain  where  rolled  the  smoke  of  battle,  and 
struggled  thirty  thousand  men  in  mortal 
combat.  But  how  different  is  the  scene  that 
is  passing  there.  The  Son  of  God  stands  on 
that  height  and  casts  his  eye  over  the  quiet 


140  SACRED     MOUNTAINS. 

valley  through  which  Jordan  winds  its  silver 
current.  Three  friends  are  beside  Him : 
they  have  walked  together  up  the  toilsome 
way,  and  now  the  four  stand,  mere  specks 
on  the  distant  summit.  Far  away  to  the 
northwest  shines  the  blue  Mediterranean — 
all  around  is  the  great  plain  of  Esdraelon  and 
Galilee — eastward,  the  lake  of  Tiberias  dots 
the  landscape,  while  Mount  Carmel  lifts  its 
naked  summit  in  the  distance.  But  the  glo- 
rious landscape  at  their  feet  is  forgotten  in  a 
sublimer  scene  that  is  passing  before  them. 
The  son  of  Mary — the  carpenter  of  Nazareth 
— the  wanderer  with  whom  they  have  ate 
and  drank  and  travelled  on  foot  many  a 
weary  league,  in  all  the  intimacy  of  compan- 
ions and  friends,  begins  to  change  before 
their  eyes.  Over  his  soiled  and  coarse  gar- 
ments is  spreading  a  strange  light,  steadily 
brightening  into  in  tenser  beauty,  till  that 
form  glows  with  such  splendor  that  it  seems 
to  waver  to  and  fro  and  dissolve  in  the  still 
radiance.  \ 


MOUNT      TABOR.  141 

The  three  astonished  friends  gaze  on  it  in 
speechless  admiration,  then  turn  to  that  fa- 
miliar face.  But  lo,  a  greater  change  has 
passed  over  it.  The  man  has  put  on  the 
God,  and  that  sad  and  solemn  countenance 
which  has  been  so  often  seen  stooping  over 
the  couch  of  the  dying,  and  entering  the  door 
of  the  hut  of  poverty,  and  passing  through  the 
streets  of  Jerusalem,  and  pausing  by  the 
weaxj  wayside — aye,  bedewed  with  the  tears 
of  pity, — now  burns  like  the  sun  in  his  mid- 
day splendor.  Meekness  has  given  way  to 
majesty — sadness  to  dazzling  glory — the  look 
of  pity  to  the  grandeur  of  ,a  God.  The  still 
radiance  of  heaven  sits  on  that  serene  brow, 
and  all  around  that  divine  form  flows  an  at- 
mosphere of  strange  and  wondrous  beauty. 
Heaven  has  poured  its  brightness  over  that 
consecrated  spot,  and  on  the  beams  of  light 
which  glitter  there,  Moses  and  Elias  have  de- 
scended ;  and,  wrapped  in  the  same  shining 
vestments,  stand  beside  him.  Wonder  fol- 
lows wonder,  for  those  three  glittering  forms 


142  SACRED     MOUNTAINS. 

are  talking  with  each  other,  and  amid  the 
thrilling  accents  are  heard  the  words  "  Mount 
Olivet,"  "  Calvary,"  the  agony  and  the  death 
of  the  crucifixion.  Peter,  awe-struck  and 
overcome,  feeling  also  the  influence  of  that 
heavenly  atmosphere,  and  carried  away  by  a 
sudden  impulse,  says  to  Jesus,  in  low  and 
tremulous  accents  :  "  It  is  good  to  be  here  ;  let 
us  build  three  tabernacles ;  one  for  tliee,  one 
for  Moses,  and  one  for  Elias."  Confused  by 
the  scene  and  dazzled  by  the  splendor,  he  was 
ignorant  what  he  was  saying.  He  knew  not 
the  meaning  of  this  sudden  appearance,  but 
he  knew  that  heaven  was  near  and  God  re- 
vealing himself,  and  he  felt  that  some  sacred 
ceremony  would  be  appropriate  to  the  scene ; 
and  while  his  bewildered  gaze  was  fixed  on 
the  three  forms  before  him,  his  unconscious 
lips  murmured  forth  the  feelings  of  his  heart. 
JVo  wonder  a  sudden  fear  came  over  him, 
that  paralyzed  his  tongue  and  crushed  him 
to  the  earth,  when  in  the  midst  of  his  speech 
he  saw  a  cloud  fall  like  .a  falling  star  from 


MOUNT     TABOR.  143 

heaven,  and,  bright  and  dazzling,  balance  it- 
self over  those  forms  of  light.  Perhaps  his 
indiscreet  interruption  had  brought  this  new 
messenger  down,  and  from  its  bosom  the 
thunder  and  flame  of  Sinai  were  to  burst ; 
and  he  fell  on  his  face  in  silent  terror.  But 
that  cloud  was  only  a  canopy  for  its  God, 
and  from  its  bright  foldings  came  a  voice, 
-saying,  "  This  is  my  beloved  Son,  in  whom 
I  am  well  pleased,  hear  ye  Him."/ 
/  How  long  the  vision  lasted  we  cannot  tell, 
but  all  that  night  did  Jesus,  with  his  friends, 
stay  on  that  lonely  mountain.  Of  the  con- 
versation that  passed  between  them  there 
we  know  nothing:  but  little  sleep,  we  im- 
agine, visited  their  eyes  that  night ;  and  as 
they  sat  on  the  high  summit  and  watched 
the  stars,  as  they  rose  one  after  another 
above  the  horizon,  and  gazed  on  the  moon 
as  she  poured  her  light  over  the  dim  and 
darkened  landscape,  words  were  spoken  that 
seemed  born  of  heaven    and  truths  never  to 


144  SACRED     MOUNTAINS. 

be  forgotten  were  uttered  in  the  ears  of  the 
subdued  and  reverent  disciples.  / 

Oh,  how  different  is  heaven  and  earth ! 
Can  there  be  a  strangelr  contrast  than  the 
Battle  and  Transfiguration  of  Mount  Tabor  1 
One  shudders  to  think  of  Bonaparte  and  the 
Son  of  God  on  the  same  mountain :  one  with 
his  wasting  cannon  by  his  side,  and  the  other 
with  Moses  and  Elias  just  from  heaven. 

But  no  after  desecration  can  destroy  the 
first  consecration  of  Mount  Tabor  ;  for,  bap- 
tized with  the  glory  of  heaven,  and  honored 
with  the  wondrous  scene  of  the  Transfigura- 
tion, it  stands  a  Sacred  Mountain  on  the 
earth.  \ 


/The  Mount  of  Olives  stands  just  without 
Jerusalem,  over  the  little  stream  of  Kedron. 
Its  height  and  magnitude  would  not  entitle 
it  to  the  name  of  mountain  as  we  use  the 
word ;  but  being  called  such  in  the  BibJe, 
it  belongs  among  the  "  Sacred  Mountains." 
In  moral  grandeur  it  towers  above  all  the 
preceding  summits  that  rise  along  the  hori- 
zon of  history.  / 

Tt  is  difficult  to  recall  any  scene  vividly 
that  has  been  so  often  described  and  so  long 
familiar  to  us  as  that  which  transpired  on 
the  Mount  of  Olives.  The  mind  is  prepared 
for  every  event  in  it,  and  hence  cannot  be 
taken  by  surprise  or  held  in  suspense.     But 

13 


146  SACRED     MOUNTAINS. 

there  are  moments  when  the  heart  forgets 
all  that  it  has  ever  heard,  and  seems  for  the 
first  time  to  witness  that  night  of  suffering. 
The  indifference  which  long  familiarity  has 
produced,  disappears  before  rising  emotion, 
and  that  lonely  hill-top — that  midnight  pray- 
er— that  piercing  agony,  with  its  bloody  tes- 
timonial, and  the  rude  shock  of  Roman  sol- 
diers, all,  all,  swim  before  the  swimming  eye, 
with  the  freshness  of  first  sight,  till  the  heart 
thrills  and  throbs  at  the  solemn  spectacle.  / 

But  morally  grand  and  moving  as  that 
scene  was,  it  caused  but  little  talk  in  Jeru- 
salem. The  streets  of  the  proud  city  were 
filled  with  careless  promenaders — parties  of 
pleasure  were  assembled — dissipation  and 
revelry  were  on  every  side ;  and  the  quiet  of 
the  staid  citizen's  home  was  not  interrupted 
by  the  tragedy  Mount  Olivet  was  to  witness. 
Every  thing  moved  on  in  its  accustomed 
way,  when,  in  an  obscure  street,  in  the  up- 
per chamber  of  an  inferior  dwelling,  a  group 
of    coarse-clad    men   sat  down   to   a   table 


MOUNT     OF     OLIVES.  147 

spread  with  the  plainest  fare.  The  rattling 
of  carriages  and  the  hum  of  the  mighty  city 
were  unheeded  by  them,  and  you  could  see 
by  their  countenances  that  some  calamity 
was  impending  over  their  heads.  Few 
words  were  spoken,  and  those  few  w^ere 
uttered  in  a  subdued  and  saddened  tone,  that 
ahvays  bespeaks  grief  at  the  heart.  At  the 
head  of  the  table  sat  one  wiiose  noble  coun- 
tenance proclaiijied  him  chief  there.  He  had 
won  the  love  of  those  simple-hearted  men, 
and  now  they  sat  grouped  around  him,  ex- 
pecting some  sad  news ;  but  oh,  they  w^ere 
unprepared  for  the  startling  declaration  that 
fell  from  those  lips :  "  This  night  one  of  you 
shall  betray  mer  '' Is  it  IT'  ^' Is  it  IT'  ran 
from  lip  to  lip  in  breathless  consternation. 
At  length  all  eyes  centred  on  Judas,  and  he 
rose  and  went  away.  / 

I  will  not  speak  of  the  conversation  that 
followed ;  but  amid  words  that  thrilled  every 
heart  was  heard  such  language  as,  "  This  is 
my  blood  shed  for  many ;"  and  as  the  bread 


148  SACRED     MOUNTAINS. 

crumbled  beneath  his  fingers,  "  This  is  my 
hotly  ;^^ — strange  language,  and  awakening 
strange  sensations  in  the  bewildered  listen- 
ers ;  and  a  mournful  sadness  rested  on  every 
face,  as  through  the  silent  chamber  rung 
those  tones  of  tenderness.  / 

Gradually  the  great  city  sunk  to  rest,  the 
noise  of  wheels  grew  less  and  less,  and  only 
now  and  then  a  solitary  carriage  wen-t  rum- 
bling by.  It  was  midnight,  and  from  that 
solitary  chamber  arose  the  voice  of  singing. 
The  victim  at  the  altar — the  sufferer  by  the 
wheel,  struck  up  a  hymn  at  the  moment  of 
sacrifice.  Was  there  ever  before  a  hymn 
sung  under  such  circumstances  7  / 

Through  the  darkened  streets  those  twelve 
forms  are  slowly  passing  towards  the  walls 
of  the  city,  cared  for  and  noticed  only  by  the 
police,  whom  the  betrayer  has  put  upon  the 
track.  Kedron  is  passed,  and  they  reach  the 
garden  of  Gethsemane.  "  Sit  you  here,"  says 
Jesus,  "  while  I  go  and  pray  yonder,"  and 
taking  with  him  only  Peter  an^  James  and 


MOUNT     OF     OLIVES.  149 

John,  he  ascended  the  slope  of  Olivet.  As 
they  paused  on  the  solitary  summit,  the  hu- 
man heart  threw  off  the  restraint  it  had  put 
on  its  feelings,  and  burst  forth  in  tones  of  in- 
describable mournfulness,  ^'^My  soul  is  exceed- 
ing sorroiofal^  even  unto  death ;  slmj  here  and 
icatch  iDith  me."  Every  prop  seemed  falling 
beside  him,  and  in  the  deepening  gloom  and' 
dread  that  surrounded  him,  he  reached  out 
for  sympathy  and  aid.  Then,  as  if  recollect- 
ing himself  and  the  task  before  him,  he 
broke  away  even  from  those  three  remain- 
ing friends,  and  they  saw  with  speechless 
grief  and  amazement  his  form  disappear  in 
the  darkness.  / 

Jerusalem  is  sunk  in  slumber  and  secu- 
rity, and  nauglit  but  the  tread  of  the  watch- 
man is  heard  along  the  streets.  The  disci- 
ples in  the  garden  of  Gethsemane  are  quielly 
sleeping  below,  and  all  is  still  and  solemn, 
as  night  ever  is  w4ien  left  alone;  and  the 
large  luminous  stars   are   shining  down   in 

their  wonted  beauty.     Kedron  goes  murmur- 
13* 


150  SACRED     MOUNTAINS. 

ing  by  as  if  singing  in  its  dreams,  and  the 
olive  trees  rustle  lo  the  passing  breeze  as  if 
their  leaves  were  but  half  stirred  from  their 
slumbers.  It  is  night,  most  quiet  night,  with 
all  its  accompaniments  of  beauty  and  of 
loveliness.  / 

But  hark,  from  the  summit  of  Mount  Oli- 
vet, rises  a  low  and  plaintive  moan;  and 
there  stretched  on  tile  dewy  grass,  his  face 
to  the  earth,  are  seen  the  dim  outlines  of  a 
human  form.  All  is  still  around,  save  that 
moan  which  rises  in  a  deep  perpetual  mono- 
tone, like  the  last  cry  of  helpless  suffering. 
But  listen  again ;  a  prayer  is  ascending  the 
heavens  :  and  what  a  prayer,  and  in  what 
tones  it  is  uttered.  Such  accents  never  be- 
fore rung  on  the  ear  of  God  or  man :  ^^ Father ^ 
if  it  be  iiossihle^  let  this  cup  jmss  from  me." 
It  is  still  again,  and  nature  herself  seems  to 
gasp  for  breath  ;  and  lo,  there  arises  another 
voice  in  tones  of  resignation  sweeter  than 
angels  use,  ^^  Father,  not  my  loill  hut  thine  he 
done.''^     Oh,  what  inexpressible   tenderness 


MOUNT     OF     OLIVES.  151 

is  poured  in  that  word  ^^  Father^' — the  \rery 
passion  and  soul  of  love  is  breathed  forth 
in  it.  Wearied  and  worn,  that  tottering 
form  slowly  rises  and  moves  through  the 
gloom  towards  where  the  three  friends 
are  sleeping — going  in  its  humanity  after 
sympathy.  The  pressure  is  too  great — the 
sorrow  and  despair  too  deep,  and  the  hu- 
man heart  reaches  out  imploringly  for  help. 
"  What^  could  you  not  loatch  icith  me  one 
hour  7''^  falls  on  -their  slumberous  ears,  and 
the  lonely  sufferer  turns  again  to  his  solitude 
and  his  woe.  Prone  on  the  earth  he  again 
casts  himself,  and  the  wave  comes  back 
with  a  heavier  and  a  darker  flow.  Bursting 
sighs,  and  groans  that  rend  the  heart  again 
startle  the  midnight  air,  and  down  those  pale 
cheeks  the  blood  is  trickling,  and  the  dewy 
grass  turns  red,  as  if  a  wounded  man  were 
weltering  there.  The  life-stream  is  flowing 
from  the  crushed  heart,  as  it  trembles  and 
wrestles  in  the  grasp  of  its  mighty  agony. 
Woe  and  darkness,  and  horror  inconceivable. 


152  SACRED     MOUNTAINS. 

indescribable,  gather  in  fearful  companion- 
ship around  that  prostrate  form,  but  still  the 
prayer  goes  up,  and  still  the  voice  of  resigna- 
tion hovers  amid  the  tumult  like  the  breath 
of  God  over  a  world  in  chaos, — ruling  the 
wild  scene.  / 

Oh,  is  this  the  •  form  that  a  few  days  ago 
stood  on  this  same  height  and  looked  off  on 
Jerusalem  sleeping  below,  while  the  sunlight 
around,  and  the  fragrant  breezes  loaded  with 
the  scent  of  the  pomegranate  and  vine,  vis- 
ited in  kindness  his  brow,  and  the  garden 
smiled  up  in  his  face  from  beneath,  and 
garments  were  strewed  before  him,  and 
branches  of  palm  waved  around  him,  and 
''  HosANNA  TO  THE  HiGHEST !"  shook  the  hill? 
Alas,  what  a  change  has  passed  over  him ! 
No  hosannas  greet  his  ear,  but  deep  within 
his  soul  are  voices  of  terror  and  dismay,  stri- 
ving, but  in  vain,  to  shake  his  constancy  or 
darken  his  faith.  \ 

Christ  arose  from  the  earth  he  had  mois- 
tened with  his  blood,  and  stood  beneath  the 


MOUNT     OF     OLIVES.  153 

stars,  that  still  shone  on  as  tranquilly  as  if 
all  unconscious  of  the  scene  that  had  tran- 
spired in  their  light.  Kedron  still  murmured 
by,  and  the  night  air  stirred  the  leaves  as 
gently  as  ever.  All  was  sweet  and  tranquil, 
when  torches  were  seen  dancing  to  and  fro 
along  the  slopes  of  the  hill,  and  the  heavy 
tread  of  approaching  feet  was  heard,  and 
rough  voices  broke  the  holy  quiet  of  nature ; 
and  soon  Roman  helmets  flashed  through 
the  gloom,  and  swords  glittered  in  the  torch- 
light, and  a  band  of  soldiers  drew  up  before 
the  "  man  of  sorrows."  "  Whom  seek  ye  ?"  fell 
in  languid  and  quiet  accents  on  their  ears 
^' Jesus  of  Nazareth,"  was  the  short  and 
stern  reply.  ^'/  am  Ae,"  answered  them, 
but  in  tones  that  had  more  of  God  than  man 
in  thena,  for  swords  and  torches  sunk  to  the 
earth  at  their  utterance,  and  those  mailed 
w^arriors  staggered  back  and  fell  like  dead 
men.  It  was  not  the  haggard  and  blood- 
streaked  face  over  which  the  torches  shed 
their  sudden  glare,  that  unnerved  them  so ; 


154  SACRED      MOUNTAINS, 

for  they  were  used  to  scenes  of  violence  and 
of  murder — it  was  the  God  speaking  from 
the  man.  / 

"  But  so  it  must  be,  that  the  Scriptures 
may  be  fulfilled  ;"  and  the  betrayer  and  his 
accomplices  take  up  their  fallen  weapons, 
and  freed  from  the  sudden  awe  that  over- 
whelmed them,  close  threateningly  around 
their  unresisting  victim.  With  their  pris- 
oner they  clatter  down  the  declivity  of  Oli- 
vet, cross  Kedron,  and  soon  their  heavy  tread 
resounds  along  the  streets  of  Jerusalem  as 
they  hurry  on  to  the  house  of  the  high 
priest.  Why  speak  of  the  painful  desertion 
of  his  followers,  sufficient  of  itself  to  break 
a  noble  heart — of  the  rude  treatment  of  the 
brutal  officers  that  guarded  him,  or  of  the 
mockery  of  a  trial,  destitute  even  of  the 
forms  of  justice!  Why  speak  of  Peter's 
treachery,  rebuked  only  by  a  sorrowful 
look ;  or  of  all  or  any  of  the  shameful  pro- 
ceedings that  made  this  last  most  terrible 


MOUNT     OF     OLIVES.  155 

night  of  the  Son  of  God  a  fit  prelude  to  the 
crowning  act  i)f  human  wickedness ! 

The  night  wanes  away — the  morning, 
the  last  dreadful  morning  approaches,  and 
the  scenes  of  Mount  Olivet  are  to  disappear 
before  the  fearful  tragedy  of  Mount  Cal- 
vary, / 


\  Mount  Calvary  is  lord  of  the  "  Sacred 
Mountains,"  and  by  its  baptism  of  blood  and 
agony,  its  moral  grandeur,  and  the  intense 
glory  that  beams  from  its  summit,  is  worthy 
to  crown  the  immortal  group.  Its  moral 
height  no  man  can  measure,  for  though  its 
base  is  on  the  earth,  its  top  is  lost  in  the 
heaven  of  heavens.  The  angels  hover  around 
the  dazzling  summit,  struggling  in  vain  to 
scale  its  highest  point,  which  has  never  yet 
been  fanned  by  even  an  immortal  wing. 
The  Divine  eye  alone  embraces  its  length 
and  breadth,  and  depth  and  heigh th.\ 

What  associations  cluster  around  Mount 
Calvary !   what  mysteries  hover  there,  and 


MOUNT      CALVARY.  157 

what  revelations  it  makes  to  the  awe-struck 
beholder!  Mount  Calvary!  at  the  mention 
of  that  name  the  universe  thrills  with  a  new 
emotion,  and  heaven  trembles  with  a  new 
anthem,  in  which  pity  and  exultation  mingle 
in  strange,  yet  sweet  accord.  Glory  and 
brightness  are  on  that  hill-top,  and  shall  be 
to  the  end  of  time ;  but  there  was  a  morning 
when  gloom  and  terror  crowned  it,  and  hea- 
ven itself,  all  but  God  the  Father,  gazed  on 
it  in  wonder,  if  not  in  consternation.  \ 

The  strange  and  painful  scene  in  the  gar- 
den had  passed  by,  and  the  shameful  exami- 
nation in  the  lighted  chamber  of  the  high 
priest  was  over.  Insult  and  contempt  had 
marked  every  step  of  the  villainous  proceed- 
ings, till  at  length  one  wretch  more  impious 
than  the  rest  advanced  and  struck  Christ  in 
the  face.  The  cheek  reddened  to  the  blow, 
but  not  with  anger  or  shame  ;  yet  methinks 
as  the  sound  of  that  buffot  was  borne  on 
high,  there  was  a  rustling  of  myriad  wings, 

as   angels  started   from  their  listening  atti- 
14 


158  SACRED     MOUNTAINS. 

tude,  waiting  the  thunderbolt  that  should 
follow.  \ 

This  too  passed  by,  and  also  the  second 
mockery  of  a  trial  in  Pilate's  hall ;  and  the 
uprisen  sun  was  flashing  down  on  the  tow- 
ers and  domes  of  Jerusalem,  and  the  vast 
population  was  again  abroad,  thronging  every 
street.  But  a  few  took  any  interest  in  the 
fate  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  yet  those  few 
were  filled  with  the  bitterest  hate.  The  vic- 
tim was  now  in  their  power — given  up  to 
their  will,  and  they  commenced  the  bloody 
scene  they  were  to  enact,  by  spitting  in  his 
face  and  striking  his  unresisting  cheek  with 
blow  after  blow.  To  give  greater  force  to 
their  insults,  they  put  a  crown  on  his  head, 
made  of  thorns,  and  mocked  him  with  sar- 
castic words,  and  strove  with  fiendish  skill 
to  irritate  him  into  some  sign  of  anger  or 
complaint.  After  having  exhausted  their  in- 
genuity, and  failing  in  every  endeavor,  they 
"  led  him  away  to  be  crucified."  \ 

It  was  a  bright  and  beautiful  day  when  a 


MOUNT      CALVARY.  159 

train  passed  out  of  the  gates  of  Jerusalem, 
and  began  to  ascend  the  slope  of  Mount  Cal- 
vary. The  people  paused  a  moment  as  the 
procession  moved  bbisterously  along  the 
streets,  then  making  some  careless  remark 
about  the  fate  of  fanatics,  passed  on.  -  The 
low  and  base  of  both  sexes  turned  and  joined 
the  company,  and  with  jokes  and  laughter 
hurried  on  to  the  scene  of  excitement.  Oh, 
how  unsympathizing  did  nature  seem  :  the 
vine  and  fig-tree  shed  their  fragrance  around 
— the  breeze  whispered  nothing  but  love  and 
tranquillity,  while  the  blue  and  bending  arch 
above  seemed  delighted  with  the  beauty 
and  verdure  the  spread-out  earth  presented. 
The  birds  were  singing  in  the  gardens,  all 
reckless  of  the  roar  and  jar  of  the  great  city 
near,  as  Jesus  passed  by  in  the  midst  of  the 
mob.  His  face  was  colorless  as  marble,  save 
where  the  blood  trickled  down  his  cheeks 
from  the  thorns  that  pierced  his  temples  ; 
his  knees  trembled  beneath  him,  thoiigh  not 
with  fear,  and  he  staggered  on  under  the 


160  SACRED     MOUNTAINS. 

heavy  timber  that  weighed  him  down,  till  at 
last  he  fainted.  Nature  gave  way,  and  he 
sunk  to  the  earth,  while  the  hue  of  death 
passed  over  his  countenance.  When  the 
sudden  rush  around  him,  caused  by  his  fall, 
had  subsided,  the  cross,  or  rather  cross-piece^ 
which  he  had  carried  was  given  to  another, 
and  the  procession  again  took  up  the  line  of 
march.  But  suddenly,  over  the  confused 
noise  of  the  throng  and  rude  shouts  of  the 
mob,  there  came  a  wild  lament.  Friends 
were  following  after,  whose  sick,  Christ  had 
healed,  whose  wounded  hearts  he  had  bound 
up,  and  on  whose  pathway  of  darkness  he 
had  shed  the  light  of  heaven  ;  and  now  they 
lifted  up  their  voices  in  one  long,  mourn- 
ful cry.  •  He  turned  at  the  sound  and  lis- 
tened a  moment,  then  murmured  in  mourn- 
ful accents :  ''  Weep  not  for  me,  but  weep 
for  yourselves  and  your  children.^^  Jerusa- 
lem on  fire  suddenly  rose  on  his  vision,  to- 
gether with  its  famine-struck  and  bloated 
population,  staggering  and  dying  around  the 


MOUNT     CALVARY.  161 

empty  market-places — the  heaps  of  the  dead 
that  loaded  the  air  with  pestilence,  and  all 
the  horror  and  woe  and  carnage  of  that  last 
dreadful  siege ;  and  forgetful  of  his  own  suf- 
fering, he  exclaimed,  "  Weep  not  for  me,  but 
for  yourselves  and  your  children^  \ 

Soon  the  procession  reached  the  hill-top, 
and  Christ  was  laid  upon  the  ground,  and 
his  arms  stretched  along  the  timber  he 
had  carried,  with  the  palms  upturned,  and 
through  them  spikes  driven,  fastening  them 
to  the  wood.  Methinks  I  hear  the  strokes 
of  the  hammer  as  it  sends  the  iron,  with  blow 
after  blow,  through  the  quivering  tendons, 
and  behold  the  painful  workings  of  that  ago- 
ny-wrung brow,  and  the  convulsive  heaving 
and  swelling  of  that  blessed  bosom,  which 
seemed  striving  to  rend  above  the  imprisoned 
heart.  \ 

At  length  he  is  lifted  from  the  ground — 

his  weight  dragging  on  the  spikes  through 

his  hands ;  and  the  cross-piece  inserted  into 

the   mortice  of  the   upright  timber,  and  a 
14* 


162  SACRED     MOUNTAINS. 

heavy  iron  crushed  through  his  feet,  fasten- 
ing them  to  the  main  post,  and  he  is  left  to 
die.  Why  speak  of  his  agony — of  his  words 
of  comfort  to  the  dying  thief — of  the  multi- 
tude around  him,  or  of  the  disgrace  of  that 
death.  Not  even  to  look  on  that  pallid  face 
and  flow^ing  blood  could,  one  get  any  concep- 
tion of  the  suffering  of  the  victim.  The  gloom 
and  terror  that  began  to  gather  round  the 
soul,  as  every  aid,  human  and  divine,  with- 
drew itself,  and  it  stood  alone  in  the  deserted, 
darkened  universe,  and  shuddered,  was  all 
unseen  by  mortal  eye.  Yet  even  in  this 
dreadful  hour  his  benevolent  heart  did  not 
forget  its  friends.  Looking  down  from  the 
cross,  he  saw  the  mother  that  bore  him  ga- 
zing in  tears  upon  his  face,  and  with  a  feeble 
and  tremulous  voice,  he  turned  to  John,  who 
had  so  often  lain  in  his  bosom,  and  said, 
"  Son,  behold  thy  mother."  Then  turning  to 
his  mother,  he  said,  "  Behold  thy  son^  His 
business  with  earthly  things  was  now  over, 
and  he  summoned  his  energies  to  meet  the  \ 


MOUNT     CALVARY.  163 

last  most  terrible  blow,  before  which  nature 
itself  was  to  give  way.  He  had  hitherto  en- 
dured all  without  a  complaint — the  mocking, 
the  spitting  upon,  the  cross,  the  nails  and 
the  agony — but  now  came  a  woe  that  broke 
his  heart.  His  father'' s — his  own  fathers 
froicn  began  to  darken  upon  him.  Oh  !  who 
can  tell  the  anguish  of  that  loving,  trusting, 
abandoned  heart  at  the  sight.  It  was  too 
much,  and  there  arose  a  cry  so  piercing  and 
shrill  and  wild  that  the  universe  shivered  be- 
fore it ;  and  as  the  accents,  '■''My  God,  my  Godj 
lohy  Jiast  tuov  forsaken  me  ?"  fell  on  the  ears 
of  astonished  mortals,  and  filled  heaven  with 
alarm ;  the  earth  gave  a  groan,  as  if  she  too 
was  about  to  expire ;  the  sun  died  in  the 
heavens ;  an  earthquake  thundered  on  to 
complete  the  dismay ;  and  the  dead  could  no 
longer  sleep,  but  burst  their  ghastly  cere- 
ments, and  came  forth  to  look  upon  the 
scene.  That  was  the  gloomiest  wave  that 
ever  broke  over  the  soul  of  the  Saviour,  and 
he  fell  before  it.     Christ  was  dead :  and  to  all 


164  SACRED     MOUNTAINS. 

human   appearance,   the  world  was  an  or- 
phan. \ 

How  heaven  regarded  this  disaster,  and 
the  universe  felt  at  the  sight,  I  cannot  tell. 
I  know  not  hut  tears  fell  like  rain-drops  from 
angelic  eyes,  when  they  saw  Christ  spit 
upon  and  struck.  I  know  not  but  there  was 
silence  on  high  for  more  than  ''  half  an  hour," 
when  the  scene  of  the  crucifixion  was  trans- 
piring— a  silence  unbroken,  save  by  the  soli- 
tary sound  of  some  harp-string  on  which  un- 
xjonsciously  fell  the  agitated,  trembling  fingers 
of  a  seraph.  I  know  not  but  all  the  radiant 
ranks  on  high,  and  even  Gabriel  himself 
turned  with  the  deepest  solicitude  to  the 
Father's  face,  to  see  if  he  was  calm  and  un- 
troubled amid  it  all.  I  know  not  but  his 
composed  brow  and  serene  majesty  were  all 
that  restrained  heaven  from  one  universal 
shriek  of  horror,  when  they  heard  groans  on 
Calvary,  dying  groans.  I  know  not  but  they 
thought  God  had  "given  his  glory  to  an- 
other;" but  one  thing  I  do  know — that  when 


MOUNT     CALVARY.  165 

they  saw  through  the  vast  design,  compre- 
hended the  stupendous  scheme,  the  hills  of 
God  shook  to  a  shout  that  had  never  before 
rung  over  their  bright  tops,  and  the  crystal 
sea  trembled  to  a  song  that  had  never  before 
stirred  its  bright  depths,  and  the  "  Glory  to 
God  in  the  highest,"  was  a  "  sevenfold 
chorus  of  hallelujahs  and  harping  sympho- 
nies." i 

Yet  none  of  the  heavenly  cadences  reached 
the  earth,  and  all  was  sad,  dark  and  despair- 
ing around  Mount  Calvary.  The  excitement 
which  the  slow  murder  had  created,  van- 
ished. With  none  to  resist,  and  none  to  be 
slain,  a  change  came  over  the  feelings  of  the 
multitude,  and  they  began  one  by  one  to  re- 
turn to  the  city.  The  sudden  darkness  also, 
that  wrapped  the  heavens,  and  the  tlirob 
of  the  earthquake,  which  made  those  three 
crosses  reel  to  and  fro  like  cedars  in  a  tem- 
pest, had  sobered  their  feelings,  and  all  but 
the  soldiery  were  glad  to  be  away  from  a 
scene  that  had  ended  with  such  supernatural 


166  SACRED     MOUNTAINS. 

exhibitions.  Gradually  the  noise  and  con- 
fusion around  the  cross  receded  down  the 
slopes — the  shades  of  evening  began  to  creep 
over  the  landscape,  throwing  into  still  more 
ghastly  relief  those  three  white  corpses 
stretched  on  high  and  streaked  with  blood — 
and  all  was  over.  No !  not  over,  for  the  se- 
pulchre was  yet  to  open,  and  the  slain  Christ 
was  yet  to  mount  the  heavens  in  his  glori- 
ous ascension.  \ 

I  will  not  speak  of  the  moral  grandeur  of 
the  atonement — of  the  redemption  purchased 
by  the  agony  and  deat4i  on  Calvary,  for  they 
are  familiar  to  all.  Still  they  constitute  the 
greatness  and  value  of  the  w^hole.  It  is  the 
atonement  that  makes  Mount  Calvary  chief 
among  the  "  Sacred  Mountains" — gives  it 
such  altitude  that  no  mortal  eye  can  scan  its 
top,  or  bear  the  full  effulgence  of  its  glory. 
Paul  called  on  his  young  disciples  to  sum- 
mon their  strongest  energies  and  bend  their 
highest  efforts  to  comprehend  the  "  length 
and  breadth,  and  depth  and  height"  of  this 


MOUNT     CALVARY.  167 

stupendous  theme — "  a  length  which  reaches 
from  everlasting  to  everlasting;  a  breadth 
that  encompasises  every  intelligence  and 
every  interest ;  a  depth  which  reaches  the 
lowest  state  of  human  degradation  and 
misery,  and  a  height  that  throws  Jloods  of 
glory  on  the  throne  and  crovm  of  Jehovah,^^  J 


/  In  the  preceding  sketches  I  have  confined 
myself  to  descriptions  of  scenes  alone,  not 
because  there  was  no  great  moral  truth  in- 
culcated in  them,  but  to  give  them  definite- 
ness.  Each  is  full  of  instruction,  and  indeed 
was  designed  to  be  a  great  lesson  for  man. 
Sometimes  God's  hatred  of  sin,  sometimes 
his  care  for  his  children,  sometimes  the  dis- 
cipline of  his  church,  were  the  motives  that 
led  him  to  make  such  wonderful  displays  of 
his  power,  his  terror,  and  his  goodness.  But 
besides  their  present  benefit,  they  have  also 
an  ultimate  meaning;  and  those  immortal 
mountains,  with  their  silent  yet  eloquent 
summits,   all  point  to  a  spiritual  elevation, 


THE     MOUNT     OF     GOD.  169 

whose  top  is  lost  in  the  glorious  atmosphere 
of  the  upper  world.  Thus  Ararat,  with  the 
heaven-lifted,  heaven-guided  ark  resting  on 
its  summit,  is  but  a  symbol  of  the  Christian's 
repose,  after  the  storms  of  life,  and  wreck  of 
all  earthly  things,  on  the  serene  heights  of 
perpetual  bliss.  Mount  Moriah  is  only  the 
shadow  of  that  height  of  mystery  where 
God  offered  up  his  only  son,  and  there  w^as 
no  hand  to  stay  the  stroke.  Sinai  and  Ho- 
reb  are  but  dim  reflections  of  the  terrors  of 
that  law  whose  final  execution  shall  set  the 
world  in  a  blaze.  Mount  Pisgah  points  to  a 
"land  of  promise,"  from  whose  bosom  rise 
more  glorious  summits  than  the  "goodly 
mountain  Lebanon."  Tabor  reveals  before- 
hand the  appearance  which  the  Lamb  of  God 
will  present  when  he  stands  on  "  Mount  Zion" 
with  tlie  redeemed  about  him;  and  Olivet 
and  Calvary  are  both  eloquent  of  heaven. 
All  these,  as  I  remarked,  point  more  or  less 
significantly  to  one  transcendent  mountain, 

whose  summit  has  never  been  seen  but  once 
15 


170  SACRED     IVI  C  U  N  T  A  I  N  9  . 

from  earth.  There  is  one  mount  whose  daz* 
zling  outline  is  hid  from  humar  eye  by  im- 
penetrable veils  of  glory.  The  Bible  often 
speaks  of  the  ''  Mount  of  God,"  the  ''  Mount 
of  Holiness,"  and  "  Mount  Zion'' — sometimes 
referring  to  Horeb  and  sometimes  to  the 
heights  of  Jerusalem,  and  sometimes  to  the 
moral  and  spiritual  heights  of  paradise.  To 
represent  these  last  I  have  chosen  the  title 
of  "  Mount  of  God."/ 

In  that  strange  era  in  human  history  when 
God  walked  with  man,  clad  as  a  man,  and 
earth  was  nearer  to  heaven  than  ever  before, 
amid  the  few  friends  that  clustered  around 
him,  was  one  "  disciple  ichom  Jesus  loved  "  Of 
a  warm  and  devoted  heart,  John  had  allowed 
his  attachment  to  absorb  every  other  feeling 
of  his  nature,  and  he  merged  his  life  into 
that  of  the  Saviour.  He  accompanied  his 
footsteps  as  he  w^alked,  looked  up  into  his 
face  with  unutterable  tenderness  as  he  spoke, 
and  lay  in  his  bosom  as  he  sat  at  meat.  No 
wonder  that  in  the  days  of  persecution  thf 


.       THE     MOUNT     OF     GOD.  171 

hand  of  violence  should  fall  on  such  a  man. 
Proscribed,  banished — the  solitary  inhabitant 
of  Patmos — John  passed  his  days  in  musing 
on  the  words  and  fate  of  his  departed  Lord. 
But  one  morning — the  morning  that  brought 
to  remembrance  his  glorious  ascension — he 
was  "in  the  spirit,"  and  that  lonely  isle  "be- 
came like  Carmel  of  old  filled  with  horses 
and  chariots  of  fire."  He  ^^icas  in  the  sjnrity^ 
and  there  was  nothing  to  disturb  his  high 
and  holy  meditations.  There  was  no  sound 
of  passing  wheels,  no  hum  of  distant  voices, 
no  tread  of  hurried  footsteps,  to  break  the 
solitude  that  surrounded  him.  The  only 
sound  that  fell  on  his  ear,  as  he  trode  the 
solitary  shore,  was  the  deep  and  solemn  mur- 
mur of  the  Egean  sea,  as  it  gently  rolled  its 
waves  to  his  feet.  As  he  thus  passed  along, 
wrapped  in  his  solitary  musings,  he  suddenly 
heard  behind  him  a  voice  like  the  solemn 
peal  of  a  mighty  trumpet,  saying,  "  I  am  Al- 
pha AND  Omega,  the  first  and  the  last." 
And  as  he  turned  and  beheld  the  form  which 


172  SACRED     MOUNTAINS. 

spake  to  him,  he  was  filled  with  awe  and 
consternation,  and  "fell  on  his  face  as  a  dead 
man."  Before  those  burning  footsteps  those 
eyes  of  flame,  and  voice  like  tlie  sound  of 
many  waters,  that  countenance  shining  like 
tl  e  sun  in  his  mid-day  splendor,  he  sunk 
powerless  and  affrighted,  and  buried  his  face 
in  the  sand  and  lay  speechless  till  he  felt  the 
pressure  of  "  his  right  hand"  upon  him,  and 
heard  the  cheering  words,  "  Fear  not,  I  am 
the  first  and  the  last;  I  am  he  that  was 
dead,  and  is  alive  forevermore."  Then  fol- 
lowed a  succession  of  wonderful  revelations, 
till  at  length  the  heavens  were  opened  above 
him,  and  he  saw  the  throne  and  him  that  sat 
upon  it,  circled  by  the  emerald  rainbow,  sur- 
rounded by  the  white-vested  elders,  while 
all  around  and  far  away  into  eternity  unceas- 
ingly rose  and  fell,  "  Holy,  holy,  holy,  Lord 
God  Almighty,  which  w^as,  and  is,  and  is  to 
come."  Thus  vision  after  vision  passed  be- 
fore his  bewildered,  trembling  spirit,  till  he 
stood  and  wept  amid  the  awful  pageantry  of 


THE     MOUNT     OF     GOD.  173 

heaven.  At  last,  to  crown  the  scene,  a  mount 
rose  before  him  bathed  in  an  atmosphere  all 
its  own,  and  on  its  dazzling  top  stood  the 
still  more  dazzling  form  of  the  Lamb,  in 
more  than  earthly  transfiguration,  and  beside 
him  a  hundred  and  forty  four  thousand  re- 
splendent beings,  with  the  Father's  name 
written  in  strange  but-  heavenly  characters 
on  their  foreheads.  The  crystal  sea  laved 
the  base  of  that  mountain,  and  from  its  top 
the  "  river  of  God"  was  seen  rolling  its  bright 
waters  along,  and  the  heavenly  Jerusalem, 
with  its  walls  of  jasper  and  gates  of  pearl, 
standing  open  night  and  day,  and  its  temple 
of  light.  As  the  bewildered  disciple  stood 
gazing  on  this  wonderful  vision,  suddenly 
there  stole  on  his  ears  strains  of  music.  At 
first  faint  and  low  the  thrilling  accents  rose 
from  that  mysterious  mount,  then  swelled 
triumphantly  away,  till  the  universe  was 
filled  with  the  melody.  The  singers  were 
those  hundred  and  forty  four  thousand,  and 

they  sung  a  new  song,  and  as  they  struck 
15* 


174  SACRED     MOUNTAINS. 

their  harps,  together  thus  they  sung :  "  Wor- 
thy is  the  Lamb  that  was  slain,  to  receive 
power,  and  riches,  and  wisdom,  and  strength, 
and  honor,  and  glory,  and  blessing."  And 
witli  one  voice  the  innumerable  host  chanted 
the  heavenly  doxology,  ''  Blessing,  and  honor, 
and  glory,  and  power,  be  unto  him  that  sit- 
teth  on  the  throne,  and  to  the  Lamb  forever;" 
and  back  returned  the  long  "  Amen,"  Again 
and  again  was  it  taken  up  and  echoed  from 
rank  to  rank  along  that  celestial  mountain, 
till  it  came  rolling  back  with  all  the  strength 
of  archangel  voices  full  on  the  throne  of  God. 
The  theme,  the  song  was  new — it  was  the 
song  of  Redemption,  David  stood  tliere 
sweeping  a  harp  far  more  melodious  and 
tuneful  than  the  one  he  swept  with  such  a 
master  hand  on  earth.  Elijah  poured  his 
soul  of  fire  into  it.  Isaiah  gave  it  a  loftier 
echo.  The  martyrs,  those  witnesses  for  the 
truth  who  had  passed  through  the  flames  to 
their  reward,  furnished  new  accessions  to  its 
strength ,   for  all  the  ransomed  of  the  I^ord 


THE      MOUNT      OF     GOD.  175 

were  there.  Aaron  went  up  thither  from 
the  top  of  Hor,  and  Moses  from  Pisgah. 
Ehjah's  chariot  of  fire  never  stopped  till  its 
burning  wheels  rested  on  that  heavenly 
mount,  and  thither  Christ  ascended  from 
the  hill  of  Olives.  Thus  the  redeemed  have 
flocked  one  after  another  to  the  Mount  of 
God,  and  there  they  shall  continue  to  gather 
until  the  glorious  assembly  stands  complete, 
and  "  God  is  all  and  in  all."/ 


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